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What industry ushered you into the workforce?
Oh, because I've been looking forward to answering *this* one. Except, no, not really.
The answer is either newspaper delivery, or food/retail.
When I was younger, my brother delivered the local paper. I took over from time to time when he was unavailable. When he finally grew out of it and went out to find a real job, I begged and pleaded to be able to take over my brother's route.
Out of this, I can at least say that I got fantastic leg muscles. Also, newspaper ink stained hands. Probably permanently. I'm pretty sure it's still there.
The worst days were the ones when it rained, and I had to slosh through puddles to deliver things, hoping I'd end up at the door with something that wasn't just a rain-soaked mess. Oh, and the days they had extra inserts for the newspapers. Because, inevitably, at least 3 times on the route, a newspaper would completely self-destruct, spilling all of its innards all over the sidewalk. I also got attacked by a dog once, which made me permanently wary of ever returning to that house.
By the time I gave up the route, my dad was delivering them for me. I had dislocated me knee, and hadn't really recovered. It didn't seem worthwhile to keep it at that point. Also, the pay was horrendous.
I also needed to give up that job, because I had to take on work experience before Grade 12, and somehow, delivering newspapers didn't count as valuable work experience.
Thus, my second job began, as a volunteer for a charity thrift store. I carried on for much longer than I needed to for the work experience, but I don't think I could truly say I was sad to see the end of that job. Especially when I ran into my Calculus teacher at the thrift store. I think I quit pretty soon after that.
Third job began the summer after first year, in a bread store/deli. I was constantly at loggerheads with my boss, didn't get along with the other owner, but was the most efficient (and trustworthy!) employee they had. Which isn't saying much. However, I gained all sorts of "valuable deli skills."
Which led into my fourth job, the summer after second year, when I put my "valuable deli skills" to work in the Safeway deli, and decided at roughly that point that I never, ever wanted to work a job where I spent so much time serving customers and seeing the public in general, ever again.
All jobs after that have been contracting work in the technical writing and editing field, which, thank goodness, is at least the field I want to get into.
What's your favourite live music venue?
What a terrifically boring question. Outdoors, I suppose. I like listening to music outdoors. From the open air concert we did back when I was in choir in Grade 6 or 7, to seeing Great Big Sea at Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park, at least twice. I mean, there's room to dance (which I did, with abundance, the second time I saw Great Big Sea at Malkin Bowl), and you just know that everybody else in Stanley Park is totally jealous of your listening experience, though you know they can hear it as well (as evidenced at our fangirl picnic last summer).
Okay, it's time for some new prompts, and this time, I'm not doing any really sucky ones. Just ones that look, at first glance, like I'm not going to die of boredom reading it.
Okay, so the next set of prompts (also courtesy of plinky.com, my username there is octarinepudding):
1. What famous buildings do you find most beautiful? Have you seen any of these in person?
2. Describe any wardrobe changes you make when you get home from work, school, or your other day activities.
3. Name three songs you'd put on a road trip mix tape.
4. When did you realize you were an adult? Was it the credit card debt or the armpit hair? Maybe the AARP membership letters? (If you're not there yet, how do you think you'll know?)
5. Pick a wild animal to keep as a pet. Describe life with your new pet. Think about its impact on your lifestyle, relationships and rug.
6. Describe the coolest thing you've seen in another country.
First, what was it? (Don't get out much? What would you like to see?)
In which city & country is it?
Word Count: 756
Word Count to Date: 48398
Oh, because I've been looking forward to answering *this* one. Except, no, not really.
The answer is either newspaper delivery, or food/retail.
When I was younger, my brother delivered the local paper. I took over from time to time when he was unavailable. When he finally grew out of it and went out to find a real job, I begged and pleaded to be able to take over my brother's route.
Out of this, I can at least say that I got fantastic leg muscles. Also, newspaper ink stained hands. Probably permanently. I'm pretty sure it's still there.
The worst days were the ones when it rained, and I had to slosh through puddles to deliver things, hoping I'd end up at the door with something that wasn't just a rain-soaked mess. Oh, and the days they had extra inserts for the newspapers. Because, inevitably, at least 3 times on the route, a newspaper would completely self-destruct, spilling all of its innards all over the sidewalk. I also got attacked by a dog once, which made me permanently wary of ever returning to that house.
By the time I gave up the route, my dad was delivering them for me. I had dislocated me knee, and hadn't really recovered. It didn't seem worthwhile to keep it at that point. Also, the pay was horrendous.
I also needed to give up that job, because I had to take on work experience before Grade 12, and somehow, delivering newspapers didn't count as valuable work experience.
Thus, my second job began, as a volunteer for a charity thrift store. I carried on for much longer than I needed to for the work experience, but I don't think I could truly say I was sad to see the end of that job. Especially when I ran into my Calculus teacher at the thrift store. I think I quit pretty soon after that.
Third job began the summer after first year, in a bread store/deli. I was constantly at loggerheads with my boss, didn't get along with the other owner, but was the most efficient (and trustworthy!) employee they had. Which isn't saying much. However, I gained all sorts of "valuable deli skills."
Which led into my fourth job, the summer after second year, when I put my "valuable deli skills" to work in the Safeway deli, and decided at roughly that point that I never, ever wanted to work a job where I spent so much time serving customers and seeing the public in general, ever again.
All jobs after that have been contracting work in the technical writing and editing field, which, thank goodness, is at least the field I want to get into.
What's your favourite live music venue?
What a terrifically boring question. Outdoors, I suppose. I like listening to music outdoors. From the open air concert we did back when I was in choir in Grade 6 or 7, to seeing Great Big Sea at Malkin Bowl in Stanley Park, at least twice. I mean, there's room to dance (which I did, with abundance, the second time I saw Great Big Sea at Malkin Bowl), and you just know that everybody else in Stanley Park is totally jealous of your listening experience, though you know they can hear it as well (as evidenced at our fangirl picnic last summer).
Okay, it's time for some new prompts, and this time, I'm not doing any really sucky ones. Just ones that look, at first glance, like I'm not going to die of boredom reading it.
Okay, so the next set of prompts (also courtesy of plinky.com, my username there is octarinepudding):
1. What famous buildings do you find most beautiful? Have you seen any of these in person?
2. Describe any wardrobe changes you make when you get home from work, school, or your other day activities.
3. Name three songs you'd put on a road trip mix tape.
4. When did you realize you were an adult? Was it the credit card debt or the armpit hair? Maybe the AARP membership letters? (If you're not there yet, how do you think you'll know?)
5. Pick a wild animal to keep as a pet. Describe life with your new pet. Think about its impact on your lifestyle, relationships and rug.
6. Describe the coolest thing you've seen in another country.
First, what was it? (Don't get out much? What would you like to see?)
In which city & country is it?
Word Count: 756
Word Count to Date: 48398
Prompt #3 - Day 117 - Overplayed songs.
Apr. 27th, 2011 08:41 pmName 3 overplayed songs that you love anyway.
Like, of the recent variety? Or ever? Because I kind of stopped listening to the radio about 5 years ago. Or maybe songs that I accidentally overplay?
Rolling in the Deep by Adele
Really, vastly overplayed. I mean, if it's being played at Starbucks, on a loop, and I hear it at least twice while I'm there, it must be overplayed, right? Somehow, the moment I first heard this song, I didn't really pay any attention to it. The second time, however, I was in a McDonalds in Germany. Was it Germany? I think it was Germany. I know that wherever it was, I didn't speak the language. Or know why they were playing English music on the television. Ruy and I decided she was talented. I wonder if he still thinks that, now that I have the album, and have played it on repeat no less than seven billion times. The best part of the song is actually the backup vocals, which are saying "You're going to wish you, never had met me." I like to sing that one when I'm feeling particularly vindictive.
Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake
Don't even ask. I don't know why I like this song. I don't even like Justin Timberlake. However, every time I try to make a playlist of songs to listen to cheer me up, this song is inevitably on it.
It's Raining Men by Uh...anyone who's done it, basically.
This became overplayed when Geri Halliwell did it. However, I think that's it's just such a fun song that I don't care really that I've heard it 800 times. I think it raining men would be an interesting event, and I would like to attend it. It's a fun visual. Of course, I've always thought it raining cats and dogs was a funny visual as well, and I only *wish* there was a song about that. Right, so I could listen to this on a loop. In fact, I think I'm going to go download it and do just that.
Dancing Queen by ABBA
I'm not sure if this was overplayed by me, or just in general, but I have to have heard this song more times than is strictly safe for remaining sane. However, it was also the first ABBA song I ever heard, and it will always remind me of the road trip with my family in 2006 where my mom warbled along with the song and waved her arms in the air. Great times. It also makes me think of Mamma Mia, possibly the best comfort movie in the history of comfort movies.
That was four songs. That's almost 3.
Word Count: 452
Word Count to Date: 47642
Like, of the recent variety? Or ever? Because I kind of stopped listening to the radio about 5 years ago. Or maybe songs that I accidentally overplay?
Rolling in the Deep by Adele
Really, vastly overplayed. I mean, if it's being played at Starbucks, on a loop, and I hear it at least twice while I'm there, it must be overplayed, right? Somehow, the moment I first heard this song, I didn't really pay any attention to it. The second time, however, I was in a McDonalds in Germany. Was it Germany? I think it was Germany. I know that wherever it was, I didn't speak the language. Or know why they were playing English music on the television. Ruy and I decided she was talented. I wonder if he still thinks that, now that I have the album, and have played it on repeat no less than seven billion times. The best part of the song is actually the backup vocals, which are saying "You're going to wish you, never had met me." I like to sing that one when I'm feeling particularly vindictive.
Cry Me a River by Justin Timberlake
Don't even ask. I don't know why I like this song. I don't even like Justin Timberlake. However, every time I try to make a playlist of songs to listen to cheer me up, this song is inevitably on it.
It's Raining Men by Uh...anyone who's done it, basically.
This became overplayed when Geri Halliwell did it. However, I think that's it's just such a fun song that I don't care really that I've heard it 800 times. I think it raining men would be an interesting event, and I would like to attend it. It's a fun visual. Of course, I've always thought it raining cats and dogs was a funny visual as well, and I only *wish* there was a song about that. Right, so I could listen to this on a loop. In fact, I think I'm going to go download it and do just that.
Dancing Queen by ABBA
I'm not sure if this was overplayed by me, or just in general, but I have to have heard this song more times than is strictly safe for remaining sane. However, it was also the first ABBA song I ever heard, and it will always remind me of the road trip with my family in 2006 where my mom warbled along with the song and waved her arms in the air. Great times. It also makes me think of Mamma Mia, possibly the best comfort movie in the history of comfort movies.
That was four songs. That's almost 3.
Word Count: 452
Word Count to Date: 47642
Defend your vice. How did you start? Why would you quit?
A vice.
Hmm.
Well, I don't smoke, I don't really drink, and I don't do drugs. Those are the big three vices, right? I guess there's also food-related vices. However, even if I wanted to give in to the cupcake vice, or the pizza vice, or the cookie vice, it's not really like I can, is it? I don't gamble, I don't consider porn a vice, and I don't go hunting.
So, what do I do, then, that could be considered a vice?
Fandom!
It's not really fandom in general, id est, the people. It's more what fandom contains. The stories, the analysis, the vidding, the medium itself...
It all started the summer after Grade 10, when I watched Claire Kincaid die on Law & Order (I sound so cavalier about it, but in truth, I spent much of that summer sobbing hysterically at inopportune moments). I discovered there was a thing called "fanfiction". Incidentally, I also discovered there was a thing called "depression." It was... a summer.
Then, that fall, I took on Crossing Jordan, because I was madly in love with Jill Hennessy. I'll always remember that the pilot was pushed back a week, and I don't think anybody can quite forget why (I went into Grade 11 in 2001). I'd never watched CNN before, but spent days and days watching it after 9/11. I discovered I could mourn for a city that wasn't even in my own country. Incidentally, I also discovered I could fuck up a knee for 8 years by dislocating it turning a corner.
Later that fall, I started watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on TNN (good--good Lord, what a terrible channel that became; fucking Spike). This wasn't on purpose. The actress who played Elizabeth Olivet on Law & Order guest-starred twice, and who doesn't want the opportunity to see her with massive 80s hair? I discovered I liked science fiction. Incidentally, I also discovered I wanted to be a psychologist because of Deanna Troi (hey, I followed through on one of my dreams! Ish. You know, since I only minored in psychology. But, wooo? Woooo!)
The next spring, I took on Deep Space Nine and Voyager, as natural progressions of TNG. I had 'ships on every Star Trek I ever watched. Incidentally, I never watched the original series. I would gladly have labelled myself a Trekkie, thank you very much. I happily labelled myself a nerd that year, and dreamed of having an earring like the Bajorans wore, or an outfit like Deanna wore, or hair that I could put up like Seven of Nine's, or a voice like molten chocolate like Captain Janeway's. Incidentally, I did not dream of having a date. Or a relationship with other people. Unless they were female, because I was pretty sure I knew just how gay I was by then.
The end of Grade 11 and beginning of Grade 12 brought CSI, the mainest main fandom I ever had. I blame it entirely on my parents, because they watched it. I'm not sure who I blame Grissom/Sara on, but I think my parents discovered I was a little more clairvoyant than they thought, when I did a little jig in Colorado Springs, after watching the Season 6 finale.
The next year brought ER, NCIS, JAG, and SG-1, in roughly that order. I'm surprised I did as well as I did, for my first year in university, as I spent the last semester buried in fanfic for shows I hadn't had the opportunity to watch yet (incidentally, weird). I discovered being *part* of a fandom, when I joined the Grissom & Sara Yahoo mailing list. Good times were had by all.
Second year of university brought back the depression in. Badly. It was partially Co-op, and just a hard set of classes. I figure that if I hadn't had SG-1 that year, I might have ended up in the psych ward. I made my decision to strap Psychology onto my degree, and felt way happier about everything by May of 2005. Then, you know, I got a job at Safeway. I cried every day I went to work. But every time I came home, there was SG-1. *sniffle* I love you guys.
Third year brought the same depression in the winter, craziness brought on by my stupid roommates, and eventual moving home to finish my year. SG-1 was having its ninth season. I was discovering Atlantis. Incidentally, all my As ended up with little circles at the top, in every piece of homework I handed in.
Third through sixth years brought a plethora of new shows and fandoms, and I blame everything squarely on Lisa. Who made my life inestimably better by being in it.
These past few years have brought Sanctuary, Lie to Me, Leverage, and Harry Potter (the fandom) into my life. I'm awesome for being a part of them. Everyone else is awesome for being a part of them, if a little batshit crazy.
I made friends, I lost friends, but most importantly, I gained something of a life, all thanks to fandom.
Now, what was the question?
I would only quit if it began to affect my health adversely. You know, more so. And from the way I've pulled back from being squarely in the middle of Sanctuary to more along the edges, I think I tend to know when that happens. I generally watch shows and join fandom because it makes me happy. When it stops making me happy, or at the very least, cheerier, then I know it's time to leave it behind, if only for a little while.
And that's how I spent my summer vacation.
Word Count: 958
Word Count to Date: 47190
A vice.
Hmm.
Well, I don't smoke, I don't really drink, and I don't do drugs. Those are the big three vices, right? I guess there's also food-related vices. However, even if I wanted to give in to the cupcake vice, or the pizza vice, or the cookie vice, it's not really like I can, is it? I don't gamble, I don't consider porn a vice, and I don't go hunting.
So, what do I do, then, that could be considered a vice?
Fandom!
It's not really fandom in general, id est, the people. It's more what fandom contains. The stories, the analysis, the vidding, the medium itself...
It all started the summer after Grade 10, when I watched Claire Kincaid die on Law & Order (I sound so cavalier about it, but in truth, I spent much of that summer sobbing hysterically at inopportune moments). I discovered there was a thing called "fanfiction". Incidentally, I also discovered there was a thing called "depression." It was... a summer.
Then, that fall, I took on Crossing Jordan, because I was madly in love with Jill Hennessy. I'll always remember that the pilot was pushed back a week, and I don't think anybody can quite forget why (I went into Grade 11 in 2001). I'd never watched CNN before, but spent days and days watching it after 9/11. I discovered I could mourn for a city that wasn't even in my own country. Incidentally, I also discovered I could fuck up a knee for 8 years by dislocating it turning a corner.
Later that fall, I started watching Star Trek: The Next Generation on TNN (good--good Lord, what a terrible channel that became; fucking Spike). This wasn't on purpose. The actress who played Elizabeth Olivet on Law & Order guest-starred twice, and who doesn't want the opportunity to see her with massive 80s hair? I discovered I liked science fiction. Incidentally, I also discovered I wanted to be a psychologist because of Deanna Troi (hey, I followed through on one of my dreams! Ish. You know, since I only minored in psychology. But, wooo? Woooo!)
The next spring, I took on Deep Space Nine and Voyager, as natural progressions of TNG. I had 'ships on every Star Trek I ever watched. Incidentally, I never watched the original series. I would gladly have labelled myself a Trekkie, thank you very much. I happily labelled myself a nerd that year, and dreamed of having an earring like the Bajorans wore, or an outfit like Deanna wore, or hair that I could put up like Seven of Nine's, or a voice like molten chocolate like Captain Janeway's. Incidentally, I did not dream of having a date. Or a relationship with other people. Unless they were female, because I was pretty sure I knew just how gay I was by then.
The end of Grade 11 and beginning of Grade 12 brought CSI, the mainest main fandom I ever had. I blame it entirely on my parents, because they watched it. I'm not sure who I blame Grissom/Sara on, but I think my parents discovered I was a little more clairvoyant than they thought, when I did a little jig in Colorado Springs, after watching the Season 6 finale.
The next year brought ER, NCIS, JAG, and SG-1, in roughly that order. I'm surprised I did as well as I did, for my first year in university, as I spent the last semester buried in fanfic for shows I hadn't had the opportunity to watch yet (incidentally, weird). I discovered being *part* of a fandom, when I joined the Grissom & Sara Yahoo mailing list. Good times were had by all.
Second year of university brought back the depression in. Badly. It was partially Co-op, and just a hard set of classes. I figure that if I hadn't had SG-1 that year, I might have ended up in the psych ward. I made my decision to strap Psychology onto my degree, and felt way happier about everything by May of 2005. Then, you know, I got a job at Safeway. I cried every day I went to work. But every time I came home, there was SG-1. *sniffle* I love you guys.
Third year brought the same depression in the winter, craziness brought on by my stupid roommates, and eventual moving home to finish my year. SG-1 was having its ninth season. I was discovering Atlantis. Incidentally, all my As ended up with little circles at the top, in every piece of homework I handed in.
Third through sixth years brought a plethora of new shows and fandoms, and I blame everything squarely on Lisa. Who made my life inestimably better by being in it.
These past few years have brought Sanctuary, Lie to Me, Leverage, and Harry Potter (the fandom) into my life. I'm awesome for being a part of them. Everyone else is awesome for being a part of them, if a little batshit crazy.
I made friends, I lost friends, but most importantly, I gained something of a life, all thanks to fandom.
Now, what was the question?
I would only quit if it began to affect my health adversely. You know, more so. And from the way I've pulled back from being squarely in the middle of Sanctuary to more along the edges, I think I tend to know when that happens. I generally watch shows and join fandom because it makes me happy. When it stops making me happy, or at the very least, cheerier, then I know it's time to leave it behind, if only for a little while.
And that's how I spent my summer vacation.
Word Count: 958
Word Count to Date: 47190
Prompt #1 - Day 115 - Schooling
Apr. 25th, 2011 10:05 amDo you think you'll ever go back to school? A few classes, or a whole degree? I mean, if yes.
Seeing as how I completely fell apart in the first semester of my second year and haven't been the same since? Probably not.
I wish I could go back to school. There are a lot of things that I wish I'd studied. I wish I could have taken every single language that UBC taught and more on top of that. Instead, I signed up for two language classes while I was there, and had to drop both of them. Never mind the linguistics class I also took for all of about 5 minutes.
I wish I could have taken more Biology classes, just because it was one science I was pretty okay at, if you didn't count the class I actually took, which was boring as shit and I hated it. If we're getting to a point here, I *really* wish I had just taken Biology in high school, so that I could have taken the more advanced biology classes in university - the ones that *aren't* designed to bore you out of your skull.
I don't see much of a point in going back to school for just a few classes. Why not get the entire degree? And if I can't afford to go back to get the degree, why would I go back and take classes at all, exactly? I mean, Continuing Education and the various rec centres between here and my parents' house all have a variety of options if I wanted to learn a language. For example, I could finally learn more in ASL than just "I like boobs." A highly useful phrase, appropriate in every situation, as you can guess.
I will always wish I could get that astrophsyics degree, but at some point, I really need to face up to the fact that I can do Physics about as well as a turtle can do advanced math. Astronomy will always be my hobby, but I'm never going to understand the fucking Physics behind it. If you were to ask me, gravity exists so the Sun doesn't fall into the Earth and because hovering tennis balls would be too distracting. Electricity exists because of electrons, magnetism exists because of magnetic fields, and electromagnetism exists to confuse me.
The reality is that I will likely have to take some classes again, if only to get certification of some kind for whatever job I end up getting. I'm okay with that. That will be about as much school as I can handle.
Also, I'm pretty sure I can live vicariously through my kids, but I guarantee that when they get to Grade 12, I'm still not going to be very helpful in Physics, for which I apologize in advance.
As for more advanced schooling, like getting a Masters or a PhD, it just isn't going to happen. I read my brother's thesis. Even if I *could* bullshit my way through 300 pages of extreme boringness, I'd have to defend it, and I had enough trouble doing group presentations in front of my classes in university. Thesis defense committees are *so* much more judgy. Besides, what would I get a Masters in? Comp Sci? I think not. I crawled through one degree on a wing and a prayer - I think trying to do advanced *anything* with it would be next to impossible, lest my fragile understanding of the subject just shatter completely.
I love writing, but there isn't a chance in hell I want to analyze enough books to complete a Masters in English. There's just too much bullshit there. Too much bullshit, and not a lot of actual, you know, production of original writing. Also, I am more or less morally opposed to analyzing anything. Except relationships in TV shows. I think we can safely say I'm pretty good at that. Can I get a degree in that?
There's always law school, but even if my grades were good enough to *just* scrape an entrance, I'd still have to write the LSAT. I saw how both my brother and brother-in-law did on the LSAT, so I don't think my chances are terribly great. Besides, I looked through my brother's LSAT review books, and too many of the practice questions remind me of the logic problems that you find in puzzle magazines, and I never was terribly good at those.
So, in conclusion, no, I don't think I'll be going back to school. Not on purpose, anyway.
Word Count: 760
Word Count to Date: 46232
Seeing as how I completely fell apart in the first semester of my second year and haven't been the same since? Probably not.
I wish I could go back to school. There are a lot of things that I wish I'd studied. I wish I could have taken every single language that UBC taught and more on top of that. Instead, I signed up for two language classes while I was there, and had to drop both of them. Never mind the linguistics class I also took for all of about 5 minutes.
I wish I could have taken more Biology classes, just because it was one science I was pretty okay at, if you didn't count the class I actually took, which was boring as shit and I hated it. If we're getting to a point here, I *really* wish I had just taken Biology in high school, so that I could have taken the more advanced biology classes in university - the ones that *aren't* designed to bore you out of your skull.
I don't see much of a point in going back to school for just a few classes. Why not get the entire degree? And if I can't afford to go back to get the degree, why would I go back and take classes at all, exactly? I mean, Continuing Education and the various rec centres between here and my parents' house all have a variety of options if I wanted to learn a language. For example, I could finally learn more in ASL than just "I like boobs." A highly useful phrase, appropriate in every situation, as you can guess.
I will always wish I could get that astrophsyics degree, but at some point, I really need to face up to the fact that I can do Physics about as well as a turtle can do advanced math. Astronomy will always be my hobby, but I'm never going to understand the fucking Physics behind it. If you were to ask me, gravity exists so the Sun doesn't fall into the Earth and because hovering tennis balls would be too distracting. Electricity exists because of electrons, magnetism exists because of magnetic fields, and electromagnetism exists to confuse me.
The reality is that I will likely have to take some classes again, if only to get certification of some kind for whatever job I end up getting. I'm okay with that. That will be about as much school as I can handle.
Also, I'm pretty sure I can live vicariously through my kids, but I guarantee that when they get to Grade 12, I'm still not going to be very helpful in Physics, for which I apologize in advance.
As for more advanced schooling, like getting a Masters or a PhD, it just isn't going to happen. I read my brother's thesis. Even if I *could* bullshit my way through 300 pages of extreme boringness, I'd have to defend it, and I had enough trouble doing group presentations in front of my classes in university. Thesis defense committees are *so* much more judgy. Besides, what would I get a Masters in? Comp Sci? I think not. I crawled through one degree on a wing and a prayer - I think trying to do advanced *anything* with it would be next to impossible, lest my fragile understanding of the subject just shatter completely.
I love writing, but there isn't a chance in hell I want to analyze enough books to complete a Masters in English. There's just too much bullshit there. Too much bullshit, and not a lot of actual, you know, production of original writing. Also, I am more or less morally opposed to analyzing anything. Except relationships in TV shows. I think we can safely say I'm pretty good at that. Can I get a degree in that?
There's always law school, but even if my grades were good enough to *just* scrape an entrance, I'd still have to write the LSAT. I saw how both my brother and brother-in-law did on the LSAT, so I don't think my chances are terribly great. Besides, I looked through my brother's LSAT review books, and too many of the practice questions remind me of the logic problems that you find in puzzle magazines, and I never was terribly good at those.
So, in conclusion, no, I don't think I'll be going back to school. Not on purpose, anyway.
Word Count: 760
Word Count to Date: 46232
Hey, guess what's driving *me* crazy this week/day/year/millennium? Other than my apparent inability to spell millennium correctly on the first try (I blame the painkillers). My brother-in-law. And yes, it relates to puppysitting.
Nowhere in the contract I wasn't given, did it say anything about this being a full-time job (or, for fuck's sake, I should be getting paid a hell of a lot more and, um, get benefits or something), nor was it ever said that I had to be on call for said job, either.
My sister? Totally gets this. Dwight does not. Because he comes from a line of work where being called in at the last minute is totally normal, he thinks it's totally normal to do this to me. I kindly asked, repeatedly, for my sister and Dwight to come up with a schedule, or come to some kind of agreement, or talk to each other in some way, and tell me at the beginning of the week, what days I'll be needed.
Which, I mean, they call me on Sundays now, so that's a plus. But Dwight keeps slipping in more days during the week, and I have a hard time saying no to people, so I end up working extra. Despite all evidence to the contrary, just because I don't have a job or many local friends, doesn't mean I don't have a *life* or *things* I want to do with my time off. But with the way this job is working, I can't even *plan* a frigging day off.
Thanks to this job, I've started having knee problems again, and this past week, it got to excruciating. I've limited myself to working only two days per week for awhile, until my knee unfucks itself. This is evidently for the best, because if I don't set this limit, no one will set this limit, and I will be puppysitting until time immemorial.
I don't want to let my sister down, because she's having a super-tough time with work and life and this is a big help for her. Dwight isn't working right now, unless you count the campaigning for the Liberals in North Vancouver that he does in his spare time. And, I mean, I do; it's just that, last week, I worked an entire day, and HE WAS AT HOME FOR MOST OF IT. I know he wanted to finish his taxes. But seriously? Dude? I could have had a much deserved day off, to pull the metaphorical knitting needles out from under my kneecap.
I was ready to come in last Thursday and puppysit because I couldn't say no or disappoint anyone. I could barely walk after Wednesday. Ruy ended up saying that if I didn't call and tell them to rethink their plans, then *he* would. And he did.
So, last Thursday, I had crafting tools jammed in my leg, I didn't work, and I felt fucking guilty the entire time. I *almost* want to start that part-time job at Chapters to become unavailable. Almost. Unfortunately, I also have a novel I want to self-publish by the end of the year, and unfettered time to work on that is actually a huge plus. I may as well try to channel some of my creativity and humour into something I could potentially then give as a Christmas gift.
In other news, someone on Twitter made a snide comment about religious people talking about Easter on Facebook, and I nearly had an aneurysm regarding it. I'm about as religious as a turtle, in that I grew up going to church, I have faith, but I don't necessarily follow the tenets of a conventional religion, but I *still* find it arrogant and rude for someone to tell someone else to not post about religion/religious holidays/God/Jesus/etc. in their statuses on Facebook or any other social media outlet. Where's that little freedom of religion thing in the American Constitution, hmm? I get that religious people can be excessive and annoying and preachy sometimes, but seriously, person who shall remain nameless, cram it up your hole.
Ruy says I wasn't allowed to post that on Twitter. I *was* however allowed to post that someone was wrong on the internet, and that my feelings were hurt. Like, heaven forbid I should celebrate a religious holiday (twice, in my case), and remark about the dinner on Twitter. It's a free country. Also, hi, person who shall remain nameless, even were it *not* a free country, I don't live in your country. In my country, we do things a little differently. *sigh*
I don't know whether it's because I was raised Christian, or I'm just feeling exceptionally picked on lately, but that really bothered me. I have issues with the Catholic church, I have issues with Evangelical fundies, I have issues with a lot of what conventional religion puts forth, but I don't go around whacking people when they say "Jesus is the reason for the season," at Christmas, or "He is risen," at Easter (...indeed, He is risen). Partly, because it rolls so delightfully off the tongue (especially in Ukrainian and Romanian), and partly because, hey, it's what they believe. Are they trying to convert you? No. Are they discussing choices made regarding your life and/or body? Not in this case. So, person who shall not be named, kindly keep your bigotry to yourself.
...I'm not actually sure how religious turtles are. My guess is, about as much as I wrote they were above. I know there's a tree religion. Of course, I read about that one in a Discworld novel, so perhaps it's a shade inaccurate.
Word Count: 939
Word Count to Date: 45472
Nowhere in the contract I wasn't given, did it say anything about this being a full-time job (or, for fuck's sake, I should be getting paid a hell of a lot more and, um, get benefits or something), nor was it ever said that I had to be on call for said job, either.
My sister? Totally gets this. Dwight does not. Because he comes from a line of work where being called in at the last minute is totally normal, he thinks it's totally normal to do this to me. I kindly asked, repeatedly, for my sister and Dwight to come up with a schedule, or come to some kind of agreement, or talk to each other in some way, and tell me at the beginning of the week, what days I'll be needed.
Which, I mean, they call me on Sundays now, so that's a plus. But Dwight keeps slipping in more days during the week, and I have a hard time saying no to people, so I end up working extra. Despite all evidence to the contrary, just because I don't have a job or many local friends, doesn't mean I don't have a *life* or *things* I want to do with my time off. But with the way this job is working, I can't even *plan* a frigging day off.
Thanks to this job, I've started having knee problems again, and this past week, it got to excruciating. I've limited myself to working only two days per week for awhile, until my knee unfucks itself. This is evidently for the best, because if I don't set this limit, no one will set this limit, and I will be puppysitting until time immemorial.
I don't want to let my sister down, because she's having a super-tough time with work and life and this is a big help for her. Dwight isn't working right now, unless you count the campaigning for the Liberals in North Vancouver that he does in his spare time. And, I mean, I do; it's just that, last week, I worked an entire day, and HE WAS AT HOME FOR MOST OF IT. I know he wanted to finish his taxes. But seriously? Dude? I could have had a much deserved day off, to pull the metaphorical knitting needles out from under my kneecap.
I was ready to come in last Thursday and puppysit because I couldn't say no or disappoint anyone. I could barely walk after Wednesday. Ruy ended up saying that if I didn't call and tell them to rethink their plans, then *he* would. And he did.
So, last Thursday, I had crafting tools jammed in my leg, I didn't work, and I felt fucking guilty the entire time. I *almost* want to start that part-time job at Chapters to become unavailable. Almost. Unfortunately, I also have a novel I want to self-publish by the end of the year, and unfettered time to work on that is actually a huge plus. I may as well try to channel some of my creativity and humour into something I could potentially then give as a Christmas gift.
In other news, someone on Twitter made a snide comment about religious people talking about Easter on Facebook, and I nearly had an aneurysm regarding it. I'm about as religious as a turtle, in that I grew up going to church, I have faith, but I don't necessarily follow the tenets of a conventional religion, but I *still* find it arrogant and rude for someone to tell someone else to not post about religion/religious holidays/God/Jesus/etc. in their statuses on Facebook or any other social media outlet. Where's that little freedom of religion thing in the American Constitution, hmm? I get that religious people can be excessive and annoying and preachy sometimes, but seriously, person who shall remain nameless, cram it up your hole.
Ruy says I wasn't allowed to post that on Twitter. I *was* however allowed to post that someone was wrong on the internet, and that my feelings were hurt. Like, heaven forbid I should celebrate a religious holiday (twice, in my case), and remark about the dinner on Twitter. It's a free country. Also, hi, person who shall remain nameless, even were it *not* a free country, I don't live in your country. In my country, we do things a little differently. *sigh*
I don't know whether it's because I was raised Christian, or I'm just feeling exceptionally picked on lately, but that really bothered me. I have issues with the Catholic church, I have issues with Evangelical fundies, I have issues with a lot of what conventional religion puts forth, but I don't go around whacking people when they say "Jesus is the reason for the season," at Christmas, or "He is risen," at Easter (...indeed, He is risen). Partly, because it rolls so delightfully off the tongue (especially in Ukrainian and Romanian), and partly because, hey, it's what they believe. Are they trying to convert you? No. Are they discussing choices made regarding your life and/or body? Not in this case. So, person who shall not be named, kindly keep your bigotry to yourself.
...I'm not actually sure how religious turtles are. My guess is, about as much as I wrote they were above. I know there's a tree religion. Of course, I read about that one in a Discworld novel, so perhaps it's a shade inaccurate.
Word Count: 939
Word Count to Date: 45472
Okay, I think the coffee has just about worn off, and I can probably write something that makes sense now. You know, or not.
Puppysitting again today (boy, it sure feels like the only time I'm productive enough to write 750 words is when I have to puppysit). Guggie spent our entire second walk just being dragged from smell to smell, as he refused to actually walk with me. My kneecap slid dangerously in and out of place the entire time. How fun. For the most part, I think I'm getting better, but whenever I'm out walking Guggie, I either trip or my knee just twists, and ugh.
...she says, coming back to a swift middle as she returns to writing said 750 words at the Starbucks after work.
There's a guy tutoring a kid in math at this Starbucks, and for fuck's sake, algebra is making *less* sense to me as I listen to him. This coming from someone who was actually pretty kickass at math, algebra especially.
Negative numbers. DUDE. Just use a frigging number line already! That's how we all learned! Or a thermometer! Or...I don't know, but there has to be a simpler way than explaining it in terms of a mortgage.
I've taken up (again, I say this like it's a hobby) reading this one particular blog (dooce.com). I don't remember how I came upon her, but it was likely during my semiannual hunt for mommyblogs or blogs by Mormons because they happen to be weird and fascinating that week (dooce is an ex-Mormon, I think the Mormon religion is crazypants (I've been to Salt Lake City - the people are lovely and nice and friendly and giving, but out and out batshit crazy), and so I think I can see why Google Reader made this recommendation). I usually go through phases with Google Reader, and sometimes I realize that Mormons and Catholic homeschooling, while quaint and interesting to read about it, tend to hold opinions that angry up the blood like no one's business. During these phases, I have to cull half of my reading list. Other times, I'm up to 20000 unread items, so the last thing I'm going to do is stop and actually *read* something, so if it's not visually offensive, it stays on the list, and lives to fight another day.
The point is, this woman is so like me (minus the Mormon relatives), it's *scary*. As such, I've giggled more out loud at Starbucks than ever before, and probably can't return. From when she was living in LA, to when they moved to Utah, to the time they got a dog, to how she figured out why her dog was afraid of the phone, to this gem:
So my father (Mike from Tennessee, as my husband likes to refer to him, only because whenever my father calls and leaves a message he says, "It's Mike from Tennessee," as if we won't recognize his voice or as if there are so many other Mikes in our life that he needs to specify "the one from Tennessee")
Yeah, I need to stop giggling.
STOP IT, GUGGIE, YOUR NOSE IS FREEZING COLD!
Apparently, stopping the giggling also meant I would stop typing, damn it, now he's licking my ankle. VERY DISTRACTING, GUGGIE!
I think it's probably time to come up with some more prompts for this daily writing thing. Mostly so that it turns back into a daily writing thing, and less of a twice a week, while I'm puppysitting, writing thing. Incidentally, as I write this proclamation, I am, indeed, puppysitting (and abusing the comma).
I'm playing with Italian tomatoes again, because it tends to keep me focused, if only focused in what I'm doing on the Internet. Otherwise, I could just sit here all day, and never switch tabs, and life would be sad, OMG. I seem to be waylaying the crippling loneliness and depression that has been bothering me with the puppysitting, so I must probably be doing it right.
In other news, my task list contains items such as "Read Livejournal," and "Play Warcraft." This is a task list I can get behind.
So, about those prompts. Let me pick a week's worth (well, 5 days worth). I'm taking these from plinky.com, because I... can?
1. Do you think you'll ever go back to school? A few classes, or a whole degree? I mean, if yes.
2. Defend your vice. How did you start? Why would you quit?
3. Name 3 overplayed songs that you love anyway.
4. What industry ushered you into the workforce?
5. What's your favourite live music venue?
This should, ideally, make for a week of very exciting posts. I will also take moderately interesting, and mildly appealing.
Also, Elisabeth Sladen died yesterday. Technically, I've never seen her as a companion, due the inability to get any Doctor Who before the new series. I've seen Tegan (we had BBC Canada for awhile), who wore *the* most colourful outfits (possibly, it was the 80s... 70s? 60s? I don't know. That would require looking this up), Rose, and Donna.
Right, I had a point here. I never saw Sarah Jane Smith in Doctor Who, but she *was* the first companion I ever read about in the Doctor Who books, so she always has a special place in my heart. It's a sad day in the neighbourhood when Sarah Jane Smith and Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart die within weeks of each other. It might behoove me to find out what they died of.
...ah, the Brigadier had cancer. He was 81. Elisabeth Sladen also had cancer. But was my dad's age (63). Jesus. Sad times.
Word Count: 948
Word Count to Date: 44533
Puppysitting again today (boy, it sure feels like the only time I'm productive enough to write 750 words is when I have to puppysit). Guggie spent our entire second walk just being dragged from smell to smell, as he refused to actually walk with me. My kneecap slid dangerously in and out of place the entire time. How fun. For the most part, I think I'm getting better, but whenever I'm out walking Guggie, I either trip or my knee just twists, and ugh.
...she says, coming back to a swift middle as she returns to writing said 750 words at the Starbucks after work.
There's a guy tutoring a kid in math at this Starbucks, and for fuck's sake, algebra is making *less* sense to me as I listen to him. This coming from someone who was actually pretty kickass at math, algebra especially.
Negative numbers. DUDE. Just use a frigging number line already! That's how we all learned! Or a thermometer! Or...I don't know, but there has to be a simpler way than explaining it in terms of a mortgage.
I've taken up (again, I say this like it's a hobby) reading this one particular blog (dooce.com). I don't remember how I came upon her, but it was likely during my semiannual hunt for mommyblogs or blogs by Mormons because they happen to be weird and fascinating that week (dooce is an ex-Mormon, I think the Mormon religion is crazypants (I've been to Salt Lake City - the people are lovely and nice and friendly and giving, but out and out batshit crazy), and so I think I can see why Google Reader made this recommendation). I usually go through phases with Google Reader, and sometimes I realize that Mormons and Catholic homeschooling, while quaint and interesting to read about it, tend to hold opinions that angry up the blood like no one's business. During these phases, I have to cull half of my reading list. Other times, I'm up to 20000 unread items, so the last thing I'm going to do is stop and actually *read* something, so if it's not visually offensive, it stays on the list, and lives to fight another day.
The point is, this woman is so like me (minus the Mormon relatives), it's *scary*. As such, I've giggled more out loud at Starbucks than ever before, and probably can't return. From when she was living in LA, to when they moved to Utah, to the time they got a dog, to how she figured out why her dog was afraid of the phone, to this gem:
So my father (Mike from Tennessee, as my husband likes to refer to him, only because whenever my father calls and leaves a message he says, "It's Mike from Tennessee," as if we won't recognize his voice or as if there are so many other Mikes in our life that he needs to specify "the one from Tennessee")
Yeah, I need to stop giggling.
STOP IT, GUGGIE, YOUR NOSE IS FREEZING COLD!
Apparently, stopping the giggling also meant I would stop typing, damn it, now he's licking my ankle. VERY DISTRACTING, GUGGIE!
I think it's probably time to come up with some more prompts for this daily writing thing. Mostly so that it turns back into a daily writing thing, and less of a twice a week, while I'm puppysitting, writing thing. Incidentally, as I write this proclamation, I am, indeed, puppysitting (and abusing the comma).
I'm playing with Italian tomatoes again, because it tends to keep me focused, if only focused in what I'm doing on the Internet. Otherwise, I could just sit here all day, and never switch tabs, and life would be sad, OMG. I seem to be waylaying the crippling loneliness and depression that has been bothering me with the puppysitting, so I must probably be doing it right.
In other news, my task list contains items such as "Read Livejournal," and "Play Warcraft." This is a task list I can get behind.
So, about those prompts. Let me pick a week's worth (well, 5 days worth). I'm taking these from plinky.com, because I... can?
1. Do you think you'll ever go back to school? A few classes, or a whole degree? I mean, if yes.
2. Defend your vice. How did you start? Why would you quit?
3. Name 3 overplayed songs that you love anyway.
4. What industry ushered you into the workforce?
5. What's your favourite live music venue?
This should, ideally, make for a week of very exciting posts. I will also take moderately interesting, and mildly appealing.
Also, Elisabeth Sladen died yesterday. Technically, I've never seen her as a companion, due the inability to get any Doctor Who before the new series. I've seen Tegan (we had BBC Canada for awhile), who wore *the* most colourful outfits (possibly, it was the 80s... 70s? 60s? I don't know. That would require looking this up), Rose, and Donna.
Right, I had a point here. I never saw Sarah Jane Smith in Doctor Who, but she *was* the first companion I ever read about in the Doctor Who books, so she always has a special place in my heart. It's a sad day in the neighbourhood when Sarah Jane Smith and Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart die within weeks of each other. It might behoove me to find out what they died of.
...ah, the Brigadier had cancer. He was 81. Elisabeth Sladen also had cancer. But was my dad's age (63). Jesus. Sad times.
Word Count: 948
Word Count to Date: 44533
Walking away from London Drugs, I thought to myself, if someone were to examine my purchases, they'd probably go "Yep, she's off to get high on the catnip and then eat that bag of chips." That's only half-true. I'll leave it to your imagination which half it is, though.
I puppysat today, and while puppysitting, I was *productive*. Not productive enough to write my 750 words, but productive nonetheless. I found this app for my phone about pomodoros? And as far as I know, that's Italian for tomato, so it makes *perfect* sense that this would be a time management application. The idea is that you do work for a chunk of time (say, half an hour), then have a break (say, 10 minutes), and after 4 (you set the number) chunks of productivity, you get a longer break (say, 20 minutes). I would literally live my entire life by this rule if it could help me be half as efficient as I was earlier today. Also, it tends to keep me from going stir crazy with loneliness, which is my current problem with the puppysitting job, so yay!
I wish my fingers weren't encrusted with rice chip dust. I wish I hadn't eaten that bag of rice chips. I wish that while I was eating those rice chips, pieces of them didn't just keep cracking off, bouncing off my boobs, and landing on my keyboard. There, I said it.
I'm told Sanctuary comes back imminently. I will likely forget this, and remember about halfway through Saturday, when I go, aw crap, I was supposed to watch Sanctuary last night.
I'm glad tomorrow's Friday, because not only is it the end of yet another week, but my parents also come back from the island. I'm glad they had their week away, but I'll be glad when I can stop piling up the unread newspapers on the stairs, and doing laundry, and being all responsible and putting out the recycling for the recycling guy to come and taketh away.
Giant headache. Probably sinus-related. Sinuses related to allergies. Allergies related to the motherfucking pollen (that's almost literal - my mom doesn't deal too well with the pollen either). Pollen making me sneeze. Sneezing blocking up the sinuses again. Sinuses giving up the ghost and making my ears hurt. Ears making my hip hurt (I don't know either).
Also, either I just have really weak ankles (this is likely the case), the pavement is really uneven, or the universe is out to get me. I've twisted my ankle not one, but five times this week alone, and every twist of the ankle causes a subsequent twist of the knee. The knee with the glass shards in it from puppywalking. Agh.
I spent a great deal of time with the cats yesterday. Tessa was feeling better from her mysterious I-don't-feel-like-eating illness, and she was eating again, which was good because otherwise she was getting scooped up and brought to the vet, and I know how much she likes these experiences. Pegasus got lost in the laundry room again. I mean, I looked everywhere before shutting the door after putting on the laundry, but by the time I got upstairs, it was evident that Peggles had not sprinted on ahead of me. Lo and behold, I went back downstairs to loud, distressed mewing. I give her credit, though, she does at least respond to her name when you call her to try and dig her out of whatever downstairs room she's trapped herself in. She spent the rest of the day either curled up on me, or on my laptop, purring contentedly or snoring contentedly. I love when she remembers she's still a kitten and needs to take naps occasionally.
Peggles has also trained herself to run downstairs when she thinks the front door might open. That's such puppy behaviour. If she wagged her tail, I wouldn't be surprised. But nothing, save holding her in your arms, will stop her from catapulting down the stairs when someone comes home. Cute, but problematic, because she's entirely too likely to slip outside like she used to at the apartment. Which reminds me. Peggles has now, officially, spent more of her life at my parents' house, than anywhere else. I wonder how she'll feel when we move in July. I imagine uprooted.
Just an hour more, and I can prepare to go home. I wish my back didn't hurt so much, or that I could pinpoint a reason why.
Word Count: 751
Word Count to Date: 43585
I puppysat today, and while puppysitting, I was *productive*. Not productive enough to write my 750 words, but productive nonetheless. I found this app for my phone about pomodoros? And as far as I know, that's Italian for tomato, so it makes *perfect* sense that this would be a time management application. The idea is that you do work for a chunk of time (say, half an hour), then have a break (say, 10 minutes), and after 4 (you set the number) chunks of productivity, you get a longer break (say, 20 minutes). I would literally live my entire life by this rule if it could help me be half as efficient as I was earlier today. Also, it tends to keep me from going stir crazy with loneliness, which is my current problem with the puppysitting job, so yay!
I wish my fingers weren't encrusted with rice chip dust. I wish I hadn't eaten that bag of rice chips. I wish that while I was eating those rice chips, pieces of them didn't just keep cracking off, bouncing off my boobs, and landing on my keyboard. There, I said it.
I'm told Sanctuary comes back imminently. I will likely forget this, and remember about halfway through Saturday, when I go, aw crap, I was supposed to watch Sanctuary last night.
I'm glad tomorrow's Friday, because not only is it the end of yet another week, but my parents also come back from the island. I'm glad they had their week away, but I'll be glad when I can stop piling up the unread newspapers on the stairs, and doing laundry, and being all responsible and putting out the recycling for the recycling guy to come and taketh away.
Giant headache. Probably sinus-related. Sinuses related to allergies. Allergies related to the motherfucking pollen (that's almost literal - my mom doesn't deal too well with the pollen either). Pollen making me sneeze. Sneezing blocking up the sinuses again. Sinuses giving up the ghost and making my ears hurt. Ears making my hip hurt (I don't know either).
Also, either I just have really weak ankles (this is likely the case), the pavement is really uneven, or the universe is out to get me. I've twisted my ankle not one, but five times this week alone, and every twist of the ankle causes a subsequent twist of the knee. The knee with the glass shards in it from puppywalking. Agh.
I spent a great deal of time with the cats yesterday. Tessa was feeling better from her mysterious I-don't-feel-like-eating illness, and she was eating again, which was good because otherwise she was getting scooped up and brought to the vet, and I know how much she likes these experiences. Pegasus got lost in the laundry room again. I mean, I looked everywhere before shutting the door after putting on the laundry, but by the time I got upstairs, it was evident that Peggles had not sprinted on ahead of me. Lo and behold, I went back downstairs to loud, distressed mewing. I give her credit, though, she does at least respond to her name when you call her to try and dig her out of whatever downstairs room she's trapped herself in. She spent the rest of the day either curled up on me, or on my laptop, purring contentedly or snoring contentedly. I love when she remembers she's still a kitten and needs to take naps occasionally.
Peggles has also trained herself to run downstairs when she thinks the front door might open. That's such puppy behaviour. If she wagged her tail, I wouldn't be surprised. But nothing, save holding her in your arms, will stop her from catapulting down the stairs when someone comes home. Cute, but problematic, because she's entirely too likely to slip outside like she used to at the apartment. Which reminds me. Peggles has now, officially, spent more of her life at my parents' house, than anywhere else. I wonder how she'll feel when we move in July. I imagine uprooted.
Just an hour more, and I can prepare to go home. I wish my back didn't hurt so much, or that I could pinpoint a reason why.
Word Count: 751
Word Count to Date: 43585
Non-Humourous List: Day 102
Apr. 12th, 2011 12:06 amI'm having one of those nights where I want to get up and do pretty much anything but sleep. They generally happen when I have to get up at ass o'clock in the morning. Tonight is no different. However, the minute I came into the living room with my laptop in my arms, both cats looked up at me as if they were expecting me. It seems that even though we're not in our old apartment anymore, they seem to remember my habits. So, where shall we begin...
1. I'm having one of those nights where Twitter just seems to piss me off. It's a popularity contest, everyone's in love with everyone else, and nobody pays any attention to me. I know it's a side effect of my new job. Puppysitting, while adorable, and relatively flexible in what I can do during my time there, takes so much out of me emotionally and mentally, that it literally drives me crazy. For example, I've discovered that although I'm a loner, and I love my solitude, I just *can't* be by myself for an extended period of time before wanting to go stir crazy.
2. I don't know that it was always this way. I don't think I had any problem in the past with being by myself and just occupying my time on the internet. I really think that the 4 or so months I spent going to Starbucks every day and being surrounded by people, changed the way that I regroup.
3. Thus, when I go to Starbucks, sit down and do essentially what I've just done all day while puppysitting, I actually feel like I'm recharging my batteries. Around people I don't know, and I don't necessarily talk to them. Who would have ever guessed?
4. I really don't know why I came back to Twitter. I guess I enjoy the hilarity of some of the tweets I read back to myself months later. But apparently, being away from it for so long... it never got any easier.
5. There are 3 podcasts that I listen to on a semi-regular basis, that feature people I like to listen to (generally females, or, at the very least, people who aren't complete and total jackholes or misogynists). All three of them I listen to as a result of Cleolinda from Movies in 15 Minutes - she's temp-hosted on all three, and I don't think any of them can really deny that she brought in a bunch of new listeners for them.
6. Geektress. A podcast that's generally about comics. I fell in love with comics again because of them. I discovered Blackest Night (which, incidentally, none of them liked, because it was an event series), I discovered Justice League, I discovered Wonder Woman, and I discovered Fables. They're hilarious to listen to, even though we have vastly different tastes in movies and television - I think we've all come to the general conclusion that Smallville is a hole of suck, and Heroes became something godawful. But at one point, one of them, possibly Laura, was watching Battlestar Galactica, and it was greaaaaat. They've discussed True Blood, of which I have more than a passing familiarity with, I've learned who various actors are and who is, in general, supposed to be hot - turns out, Alexander Skarsgard is pretty fantastic and everyone wants to see him topless. Me? I watched Mamma Mia and fell for his dad, Stellan, instead. Me, I go about these things the wrong way. Geektress has made me feel like I can be a comic book geek again. I can, and I am.
7. Made of Fail. Originally hosted by Dayna and Kevin, now hosted by Dayna, Kevin, and a variety of random other people they can rope into it. I won't lie - I'm pretty sure my dream is to be a guest host on Made of Fail one day, but first I have to become an expert on something, and get over my fear of talking to people. Dayna and Kevin aren't TV people, which, while understandable, still strikes me as the weirdest of crazy. I mean, they weren't always this way - both watched Buffy back in the day, so it's not like they don't have good taste *in* TV. I guess they mostly drifted away from it. Dayna loves Final Fantasy games, video games in general, and her and I have a lot in common, healthwise. In a lot of ways, she's kind of my hero. She's not perfect, but she certainly makes me feel like I can aspire to be her one day. She hates Discworld, though Kevin loves it. They did an episode devoted to Discworld, which I expected to dislike. Obviously, that backfired, as Ruy and I are in love. With Discworld. And each other, I suppose.
8. Potterficweekly (and its spin-off, The Poufwa Exchange, which is actually how I found PFW). I never expected to like Harry Potter fanfiction, as I've only ever heard how batshit crazy the fandom is. I started listening to them mainly to give me something to fill the silence in the apartment while Ruy was in Romania in September of 2008. Just listening to them was so friendly. And then I started reading the fics they were talking about, and now it's like I'm part of a book club. *sigh* Happy times.
This list is brought to you by the fact that it's actually quite late and I *should* go to bed, Peggles snoring beside me, Tessa snoring 3 feet from me, Ruy snoring two rooms over kind of loudly, a crisis of Twitterfidence, and the fact that listening to Potterficweekly for less than twenty minutes put a smile on my face and made me want to get up and be productive. Woo.
Word Count: 968
Word Count to Date: 42834
1. I'm having one of those nights where Twitter just seems to piss me off. It's a popularity contest, everyone's in love with everyone else, and nobody pays any attention to me. I know it's a side effect of my new job. Puppysitting, while adorable, and relatively flexible in what I can do during my time there, takes so much out of me emotionally and mentally, that it literally drives me crazy. For example, I've discovered that although I'm a loner, and I love my solitude, I just *can't* be by myself for an extended period of time before wanting to go stir crazy.
2. I don't know that it was always this way. I don't think I had any problem in the past with being by myself and just occupying my time on the internet. I really think that the 4 or so months I spent going to Starbucks every day and being surrounded by people, changed the way that I regroup.
3. Thus, when I go to Starbucks, sit down and do essentially what I've just done all day while puppysitting, I actually feel like I'm recharging my batteries. Around people I don't know, and I don't necessarily talk to them. Who would have ever guessed?
4. I really don't know why I came back to Twitter. I guess I enjoy the hilarity of some of the tweets I read back to myself months later. But apparently, being away from it for so long... it never got any easier.
5. There are 3 podcasts that I listen to on a semi-regular basis, that feature people I like to listen to (generally females, or, at the very least, people who aren't complete and total jackholes or misogynists). All three of them I listen to as a result of Cleolinda from Movies in 15 Minutes - she's temp-hosted on all three, and I don't think any of them can really deny that she brought in a bunch of new listeners for them.
6. Geektress. A podcast that's generally about comics. I fell in love with comics again because of them. I discovered Blackest Night (which, incidentally, none of them liked, because it was an event series), I discovered Justice League, I discovered Wonder Woman, and I discovered Fables. They're hilarious to listen to, even though we have vastly different tastes in movies and television - I think we've all come to the general conclusion that Smallville is a hole of suck, and Heroes became something godawful. But at one point, one of them, possibly Laura, was watching Battlestar Galactica, and it was greaaaaat. They've discussed True Blood, of which I have more than a passing familiarity with, I've learned who various actors are and who is, in general, supposed to be hot - turns out, Alexander Skarsgard is pretty fantastic and everyone wants to see him topless. Me? I watched Mamma Mia and fell for his dad, Stellan, instead. Me, I go about these things the wrong way. Geektress has made me feel like I can be a comic book geek again. I can, and I am.
7. Made of Fail. Originally hosted by Dayna and Kevin, now hosted by Dayna, Kevin, and a variety of random other people they can rope into it. I won't lie - I'm pretty sure my dream is to be a guest host on Made of Fail one day, but first I have to become an expert on something, and get over my fear of talking to people. Dayna and Kevin aren't TV people, which, while understandable, still strikes me as the weirdest of crazy. I mean, they weren't always this way - both watched Buffy back in the day, so it's not like they don't have good taste *in* TV. I guess they mostly drifted away from it. Dayna loves Final Fantasy games, video games in general, and her and I have a lot in common, healthwise. In a lot of ways, she's kind of my hero. She's not perfect, but she certainly makes me feel like I can aspire to be her one day. She hates Discworld, though Kevin loves it. They did an episode devoted to Discworld, which I expected to dislike. Obviously, that backfired, as Ruy and I are in love. With Discworld. And each other, I suppose.
8. Potterficweekly (and its spin-off, The Poufwa Exchange, which is actually how I found PFW). I never expected to like Harry Potter fanfiction, as I've only ever heard how batshit crazy the fandom is. I started listening to them mainly to give me something to fill the silence in the apartment while Ruy was in Romania in September of 2008. Just listening to them was so friendly. And then I started reading the fics they were talking about, and now it's like I'm part of a book club. *sigh* Happy times.
This list is brought to you by the fact that it's actually quite late and I *should* go to bed, Peggles snoring beside me, Tessa snoring 3 feet from me, Ruy snoring two rooms over kind of loudly, a crisis of Twitterfidence, and the fact that listening to Potterficweekly for less than twenty minutes put a smile on my face and made me want to get up and be productive. Woo.
Word Count: 968
Word Count to Date: 42834
I totally got their ages worked out. It's cool. Also, don't ask me where this total crack!pairing came from. My... brain?
"Tall caramel macchiato," the barista said, placing the drink on the bar. Emily Lightman made a grab for it. She'd been up all night studying, and desperately needed her caffeine fix if she was going to stay awake for classes and then babysit her sister in the afternoon.
A masculine hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the coffee. Emily turned, toward the man, who was dressed in a business suit. "Okay, *no*," Emily said. "Absolutely not. That was mine."
"Drop dead, sweetheart," the man replied, silkily, while he sipped the coffee.
Was he on *crack*? Emily thought. Did he really just say that?
"I paid for that, you prick," Emily replied. A lawyer for a mother, and deception experts for a father and step-mother, she was never afraid to speak up for the underprivileged or trodden-upon (in this case, herself).
"This is Washington, honey," the man replied, still smoothly drinking the coffee.
"What the *hell* does that have to do with anything?"
A woman in a navy blue pantsuit, with long dirty-blonde hair done up in a bun had sidled up to the bar while no one was looking and was making hand gestures at the barista. The barista nodded, the woman smiled. The woman walked towards the man in the business suit, and Emily. As she passed, she simultaneously stepped on the man's foot in her 3-inch heels, and knocked the cup of coffee into him.
"Oh, I'm so *sorry*," the woman said, smirking.
"Bitch," he replied venomously, fumbling around for napkins while trying not to walk on his injured foot.
"You stole her coffee, you can *wear* her coffee."
Emily smiled, despite the lack of coffee, and the fact that she really could have handled this herself.
"You can pay for the dry-cleaning of my suit," the man hissed.
"Right. And you can buy her a new coffee. I see you do this *every* *day*. You've done it to me, you've done it to hundreds of other women, and I'm tired of it. With the number of coffees you've *never* bought, you can afford your own dry cleaning bill."
The man left the coffee house in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, turning to Emily. "You were doing great, really, but I've wanted to stick it to him for *weeks*."
"It's fine," Emily said. "I just really needed that coffee."
"Barista's making another one, I've got it covered."
"Thanks," Emily said. "You really didn't have to. I could have done without."
"No, you couldn't. You look exhausted."
"I was up until 3:30 studying for a calculus final."
"Georgetown?"
Emily nodded.
"Did my PhD there. Nice campus."
"Oh yeah," Emily replied. "Very scenic, and such. Especially if you like getting run down by the Plant Ops people every time you step into the street."
"So, things haven't changed much in the last few years, is what you're saying," the woman replied, giggling.
Emily grinned. "Nope. Look both ways before you cross the street and one will still pop out of nowhere."
Emily's coffee was ready. She picked it up, sipped it, and sighed happily.
"I remember those days," the woman said fondly. She fidgeted with her necklace, not sure what to say next or whether she should just end the conversation there.
Emily was braver (and more caffeinated). "Do you want to sit down for a minute? Share a scone? Reminisce?" She then looked horrified. "I mean, if you have time, and, god, we don't actually know each other."
The woman held out a hand. "Cassandra. Everybody and their mother calls me Cassie, though."
Emily shook Cassie's hand. "Emily."
"Well, Emily, raspberry lemon, or pumpkin?"
Emily spluttered on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
Cassie blushed. "Scone. What flavour?"
"Oh! Um, pumpkin?"
"Sounds good." Cassie went to purchase the scone, and then she and Emily looked for an empty table.
When they were both sitting down, jackets shrugged off, backpacks and laptop bags placed carefully next to them, Emily broke the scone in half, and nudged one half closer to Cassie.
Cassie nibbled a piece of icing, and regarded Emily carefully. The younger woman was pretty. Wavy brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. She had a look about her that one would generally associate with perpetual worrying. Emily noticed Cassie looking and grinned. The grin was one of genuine happiness (the corners of her eyes crinkled), but there was suppressed laughter behind that smile as well.
It wasn't suppressed for long. Emily laughed. Cassie shook herself out of the stare and said, "What?"
"It's nothing," Emily said, swallowing a giggle. "It's just--could you please look a little less worried? I'm not going to kidnap you."
Cassie couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not that. Really. I'm just a little lost in thought, is all." Like whether this counts as a date, whether or not you even *like* women, whether I'm reading too much into the look in your eyes...
"Well, allow me to distract you, then," Emily said, flicking a crumb rather accurately at the side of Cassie's head.
This struck both as hilarious, and they both dissolved into laughter. Once the giggles had mostly stopped, they began to discuss Georgetown - Cassie's alma mater, Emily's... current mater. Once that topic was exhausted, they began to discuss music. Neither were particularly adept at a musical instrument, both could play the piano only purely technically, and both enjoyed cello music.
Midway through an anecdote about Vitamin String Quartet, Emily glanced down at her phone, and did a double-take at the time. "Crap. I've got to get going or I'm going to miss my final."
"And I don't want to be late for my first day at my new job," Cassie said, packing up her things.
They walked together until the directions they were heading in diverged. "We should... do this again sometime," Emily said, adjusting the straps of her backpack.
"Absolutely," Cassie replied.
They said their goodbyes, and both wandered away wondering exactly *what* they should do again sometime. They had exchanged email addresses, so there was always time to hash that out later.
Neither realized that "later" would turn out to be that afternoon.
Word Count: 1023
Word Count to Date: 39890
"Tall caramel macchiato," the barista said, placing the drink on the bar. Emily Lightman made a grab for it. She'd been up all night studying, and desperately needed her caffeine fix if she was going to stay awake for classes and then babysit her sister in the afternoon.
A masculine hand came out of nowhere and grabbed the coffee. Emily turned, toward the man, who was dressed in a business suit. "Okay, *no*," Emily said. "Absolutely not. That was mine."
"Drop dead, sweetheart," the man replied, silkily, while he sipped the coffee.
Was he on *crack*? Emily thought. Did he really just say that?
"I paid for that, you prick," Emily replied. A lawyer for a mother, and deception experts for a father and step-mother, she was never afraid to speak up for the underprivileged or trodden-upon (in this case, herself).
"This is Washington, honey," the man replied, still smoothly drinking the coffee.
"What the *hell* does that have to do with anything?"
A woman in a navy blue pantsuit, with long dirty-blonde hair done up in a bun had sidled up to the bar while no one was looking and was making hand gestures at the barista. The barista nodded, the woman smiled. The woman walked towards the man in the business suit, and Emily. As she passed, she simultaneously stepped on the man's foot in her 3-inch heels, and knocked the cup of coffee into him.
"Oh, I'm so *sorry*," the woman said, smirking.
"Bitch," he replied venomously, fumbling around for napkins while trying not to walk on his injured foot.
"You stole her coffee, you can *wear* her coffee."
Emily smiled, despite the lack of coffee, and the fact that she really could have handled this herself.
"You can pay for the dry-cleaning of my suit," the man hissed.
"Right. And you can buy her a new coffee. I see you do this *every* *day*. You've done it to me, you've done it to hundreds of other women, and I'm tired of it. With the number of coffees you've *never* bought, you can afford your own dry cleaning bill."
The man left the coffee house in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," the woman said, turning to Emily. "You were doing great, really, but I've wanted to stick it to him for *weeks*."
"It's fine," Emily said. "I just really needed that coffee."
"Barista's making another one, I've got it covered."
"Thanks," Emily said. "You really didn't have to. I could have done without."
"No, you couldn't. You look exhausted."
"I was up until 3:30 studying for a calculus final."
"Georgetown?"
Emily nodded.
"Did my PhD there. Nice campus."
"Oh yeah," Emily replied. "Very scenic, and such. Especially if you like getting run down by the Plant Ops people every time you step into the street."
"So, things haven't changed much in the last few years, is what you're saying," the woman replied, giggling.
Emily grinned. "Nope. Look both ways before you cross the street and one will still pop out of nowhere."
Emily's coffee was ready. She picked it up, sipped it, and sighed happily.
"I remember those days," the woman said fondly. She fidgeted with her necklace, not sure what to say next or whether she should just end the conversation there.
Emily was braver (and more caffeinated). "Do you want to sit down for a minute? Share a scone? Reminisce?" She then looked horrified. "I mean, if you have time, and, god, we don't actually know each other."
The woman held out a hand. "Cassandra. Everybody and their mother calls me Cassie, though."
Emily shook Cassie's hand. "Emily."
"Well, Emily, raspberry lemon, or pumpkin?"
Emily spluttered on her coffee. "Excuse me?"
Cassie blushed. "Scone. What flavour?"
"Oh! Um, pumpkin?"
"Sounds good." Cassie went to purchase the scone, and then she and Emily looked for an empty table.
When they were both sitting down, jackets shrugged off, backpacks and laptop bags placed carefully next to them, Emily broke the scone in half, and nudged one half closer to Cassie.
Cassie nibbled a piece of icing, and regarded Emily carefully. The younger woman was pretty. Wavy brown hair, brown eyes, freckles. She had a look about her that one would generally associate with perpetual worrying. Emily noticed Cassie looking and grinned. The grin was one of genuine happiness (the corners of her eyes crinkled), but there was suppressed laughter behind that smile as well.
It wasn't suppressed for long. Emily laughed. Cassie shook herself out of the stare and said, "What?"
"It's nothing," Emily said, swallowing a giggle. "It's just--could you please look a little less worried? I'm not going to kidnap you."
Cassie couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not that. Really. I'm just a little lost in thought, is all." Like whether this counts as a date, whether or not you even *like* women, whether I'm reading too much into the look in your eyes...
"Well, allow me to distract you, then," Emily said, flicking a crumb rather accurately at the side of Cassie's head.
This struck both as hilarious, and they both dissolved into laughter. Once the giggles had mostly stopped, they began to discuss Georgetown - Cassie's alma mater, Emily's... current mater. Once that topic was exhausted, they began to discuss music. Neither were particularly adept at a musical instrument, both could play the piano only purely technically, and both enjoyed cello music.
Midway through an anecdote about Vitamin String Quartet, Emily glanced down at her phone, and did a double-take at the time. "Crap. I've got to get going or I'm going to miss my final."
"And I don't want to be late for my first day at my new job," Cassie said, packing up her things.
They walked together until the directions they were heading in diverged. "We should... do this again sometime," Emily said, adjusting the straps of her backpack.
"Absolutely," Cassie replied.
They said their goodbyes, and both wandered away wondering exactly *what* they should do again sometime. They had exchanged email addresses, so there was always time to hash that out later.
Neither realized that "later" would turn out to be that afternoon.
Word Count: 1023
Word Count to Date: 39890
I found a great set of writing prompt sites. Now I just need to remember where I bookmarked them, because it sure as hell isn't obvious, and hooo, boy, am I behind on my personal goal of 200 000 words. Probably would have gone crazy trying to get to 350 000.
So, I'm on Twitter again, and already, I've managed to attract attention. Ryan Robbins needs to stick his generalizations, using the word "you," regarding Charlie Sheen, up what I'm sure is a very nice ass. I saw that he later tried to explain the "you" thing, and I was halfway through writing a response about that's why you don't use "you" in the first place, unless you have a literal you (singular or plural) in mind. Otherwise, you kind of paddle up a creek and then lose the paddle in some murky water.
Right, so halfway through writing this response, I realized I didn't want to get into this *again* (fuck you hard, former English teacher and your cronies), and I hardly wanted to attract any kind of wrath from RyRo. Instead, I just unfollowed him, putting a message about how generalization makes me lose respect for people (putting it lightly), listed him and former English teacher and his cronies, implied I could write a fucking dissertation on what the hell is wrong with what they're doing, and left it at that.
Seems I was noticed anyway. Okay, RyRo, I'll always be your angry unfollower, and you can be the actor that I can't *not* find cool for mentioning me, but not mentioning me by name, in case hordes of your fans came and shat on me. Should I run into you on the street, it's high fives all around.
I have a whole 4 followers from before, and they're the ones that don't drive me up the wall, nor have to mention [name redacted] as their BFF every three frigging seconds. It's certainly calmer. Also, the cats are following me. Yes, I tweet as my cats. Why not? It's like... getting your head around a character. The character happens to be one of my pet cats, but why not?
I'm almost ready to go back to LJ (uh, the other one). I figure I should see my psychiatrist first (appointment tomorrow), but emotionally, I'm nearly there. God. I never knew going to a convention would be my whole mental undoing, but there you go. Meet Amanda Tapping, but otherwise go completely insane? Worth it. I think.
I'm puppysitting today. Guggie is behaving so much better than he has over the last few weeks. I mean, there's still the issue with the sticks, but that's okay. We went for a long walk this morning. In the rain. Of course, I look outside and it's sunny now. Ridiculous.
People are working in/around my sister's building again, and I can hear everything, including all the swearing, quite well. At least it's not zombies in the walls this time, or that guy in the elevator with the heist.
Let's see. I'm meeting Ruy after I get off work, to bring him dinner at his work, because he has to work late (the deadlines they impose are absolutely ridiculous).
I need to find time for a nap.
On the weekend, we tried out the cat harness/leash on Pegasus, so she could check out a bit of the outside world. I think it became a little too real for her, so she went and hid under one of the deck chairs. Then she kept going and hiding under my desk, which is unusual for her, because Pegasus is always all IN YOUR FACE. When I took the harness off later, she came and snuggled up on my chest. In most ways, she is still such a kitten. She's forever getting stuck in places that she could probably get out of easily - inside the storage room, on top of the freezer, at the bottom of the stairs... But she'll make these pathetic meowing sounds that mean someone has to go and rescue her. Usually, me. When last I rescued her off the freezer, she stretched her paws up onto my shoulder, and licked my ear. Like a child, she knows how to tell me she wants up, and really, who am I to deny her? I'm still going to be doing this when she's Tessa's age, I just know it.
She and Tessa are getting along better, and mostly they just squabble over the coveted place on the back of the couch, which is traditionally Tessa's. There's much mutual grooming, and Pegasus is nearly through the phase where she has to take flying leaps off of things and onto Tessa and then attempt to ride her around. Nearly.
Pegasus meows like a human child cries. It's uncanny. She can really wail away when she wants something. It's hard to believe that the tiny black kitten I brought home last December is now a long, lanky cat.
Tessa deals with everything admirably. I'm told that while she seeks some comfort from my parents when I'm not there, I'm definitely her human. I'm actually glad that Pegasus is there with her when I'm not there, because I think it makes her feel less lonely, even if Peggles can sometimes be quite the pain in the ass. Still, like her mother, she doesn't like being away from her parents for too long. Gives her the anxieties and such. My poor girl. I wish she could use Skype.
Word Count: 920
Word Count to Date: 38867
So, I'm on Twitter again, and already, I've managed to attract attention. Ryan Robbins needs to stick his generalizations, using the word "you," regarding Charlie Sheen, up what I'm sure is a very nice ass. I saw that he later tried to explain the "you" thing, and I was halfway through writing a response about that's why you don't use "you" in the first place, unless you have a literal you (singular or plural) in mind. Otherwise, you kind of paddle up a creek and then lose the paddle in some murky water.
Right, so halfway through writing this response, I realized I didn't want to get into this *again* (fuck you hard, former English teacher and your cronies), and I hardly wanted to attract any kind of wrath from RyRo. Instead, I just unfollowed him, putting a message about how generalization makes me lose respect for people (putting it lightly), listed him and former English teacher and his cronies, implied I could write a fucking dissertation on what the hell is wrong with what they're doing, and left it at that.
Seems I was noticed anyway. Okay, RyRo, I'll always be your angry unfollower, and you can be the actor that I can't *not* find cool for mentioning me, but not mentioning me by name, in case hordes of your fans came and shat on me. Should I run into you on the street, it's high fives all around.
I have a whole 4 followers from before, and they're the ones that don't drive me up the wall, nor have to mention [name redacted] as their BFF every three frigging seconds. It's certainly calmer. Also, the cats are following me. Yes, I tweet as my cats. Why not? It's like... getting your head around a character. The character happens to be one of my pet cats, but why not?
I'm almost ready to go back to LJ (uh, the other one). I figure I should see my psychiatrist first (appointment tomorrow), but emotionally, I'm nearly there. God. I never knew going to a convention would be my whole mental undoing, but there you go. Meet Amanda Tapping, but otherwise go completely insane? Worth it. I think.
I'm puppysitting today. Guggie is behaving so much better than he has over the last few weeks. I mean, there's still the issue with the sticks, but that's okay. We went for a long walk this morning. In the rain. Of course, I look outside and it's sunny now. Ridiculous.
People are working in/around my sister's building again, and I can hear everything, including all the swearing, quite well. At least it's not zombies in the walls this time, or that guy in the elevator with the heist.
Let's see. I'm meeting Ruy after I get off work, to bring him dinner at his work, because he has to work late (the deadlines they impose are absolutely ridiculous).
I need to find time for a nap.
On the weekend, we tried out the cat harness/leash on Pegasus, so she could check out a bit of the outside world. I think it became a little too real for her, so she went and hid under one of the deck chairs. Then she kept going and hiding under my desk, which is unusual for her, because Pegasus is always all IN YOUR FACE. When I took the harness off later, she came and snuggled up on my chest. In most ways, she is still such a kitten. She's forever getting stuck in places that she could probably get out of easily - inside the storage room, on top of the freezer, at the bottom of the stairs... But she'll make these pathetic meowing sounds that mean someone has to go and rescue her. Usually, me. When last I rescued her off the freezer, she stretched her paws up onto my shoulder, and licked my ear. Like a child, she knows how to tell me she wants up, and really, who am I to deny her? I'm still going to be doing this when she's Tessa's age, I just know it.
She and Tessa are getting along better, and mostly they just squabble over the coveted place on the back of the couch, which is traditionally Tessa's. There's much mutual grooming, and Pegasus is nearly through the phase where she has to take flying leaps off of things and onto Tessa and then attempt to ride her around. Nearly.
Pegasus meows like a human child cries. It's uncanny. She can really wail away when she wants something. It's hard to believe that the tiny black kitten I brought home last December is now a long, lanky cat.
Tessa deals with everything admirably. I'm told that while she seeks some comfort from my parents when I'm not there, I'm definitely her human. I'm actually glad that Pegasus is there with her when I'm not there, because I think it makes her feel less lonely, even if Peggles can sometimes be quite the pain in the ass. Still, like her mother, she doesn't like being away from her parents for too long. Gives her the anxieties and such. My poor girl. I wish she could use Skype.
Word Count: 920
Word Count to Date: 38867
Today, I went downtown (at ass o'clock in the morning) for dog-walking, as is my job. My dad drove me, because he's cool like that. My sister just forgot to tell me that Dwight finished filming on Tuesday, and therefore they didn't need me today, or tomorrow. So, Dwight was surprised to see me. Guggie was happy to see me and I walked him anyway, because at least someone was happy I was there. I called my dad back to tell him to come back (and he hadn't even left town, let alone his parking spot, luckily). So, days off, yay.
However, I think my sister and her husband need to communicate, make decisions, and hire a governor to pass on these decisions to me, because *damn* if this isn't irritating as all hell. I mean, through a series of fortunate events, I had a way back home, but I did give my sister an earful. A professional one. Because this *is* a job. And also, it was more of a Skypeful.
You know, I went to see RED in the theatre, and I loved it. It came out around the time Jackass 3D came out, and for *some* reason, the latter did better than the former. I will never understand that. You have this *awesome* comic book-basedchicken movie, it's got this *amazing* cast, hilarious characters, and a 'ship. I don't even 'ship movies. Like, ever. Unless they were books first, and I 'shipped them in the book, and--huh, I'm not going anywhere with this. The point is, 'shiiiiiiiiiip.
*draws hearts and flowers around Frank Moses and Sarah*
*wonders why she never liked Bruce Willis before, decides it's because he had to age like a finecheese wine first*
Also, unrelated, Helen Mirren? You are just awwwwesome.
Then there was that time I watched Mamma Mia and decided I quite loved Meryl Streep. Perhaps it's because I love people who can sing (seriously, Colin Firth? CALL ME). But also, I made a pact with myself in Grade 12, upon seeing her in Taming of the Shrew, that she was a horrible actress and overrated and I would never like her. What can I say? I take it all back. Perhaps it's also because she's a great advocate of loving your own body and never wishing you had someone else's, because you never will. Also, she took her husband's last name, which I don't usually advocate, though for fuck's sake, I'll be doing so, so I'm kind of a hypocrite, except then I found out what jerks my dad's adopted dad's family were, and so I'll be glad to not carry on Drozdiak. But I like when actresses don't just keep their stage name/maiden name in real life, because it kind of makes them actual people. Also, that one sentence back there was kind of an explosive run-on sentence. For which I apologize. Also? She has SIX kids. I have a great amount of respect for anyone who can look that great after 6 kids. I promise here and now that I will not make any remarks about vaginas and clown cars, or her sixth child just cartwheeling out. Well, I mean, except for the one I just made. I LOVE YOU MERYL.
I totally watched The San Lorenzo Job (Leverage), and everything I like about this show was there. There was the stealing a country, Goran Visjnic as an evil guy (Luka, what *happened* to you), there was everybody doing their stuff, there was Nate and Sophie waking up in bed together...
Ruy and I discussing the episode afterward, the first and third lines are obviously mine:
"Well, obviously, it was too hot, and they were tired, and had to take off their clothes and share a bed."
"Obviously."
"Wait a minute, why am I making excuses for them? WOOOO, NATE/SOPHIE!"
"I did wonder."
Which brings me to another point about the word girlcrushes. Is that a hetero thing? Where you don't technically have a crush on someone, but you highly respect their work, and maybe like to catch them on TV? I mean, the entire world can't be bisexual, can it? ...CAN IT? If I have a crush on a lady, it's just a crush, right? I mean, there's the whole thing with heterosexual man crushes (by men, for men), which makes mine, what, homosexual woman crushes? I rest my case. So, wanna hear about my homosexual woman crushes? Of course you do. I'll just list names, and you tell me when to stop.
Amanda Tapping, Jorja Fox, Gina Bellman, Beth Riesgraf, the actress who plays Alison on Eureka whom I decided I like within 6 seconds of watching the show, Gina Torres, Kelli Williams, Monica Raymund,KARA THRACE Katee Sackhoff, Mary McDonnell, Amanda Tapping, Amanda Tapping, Morena Baccarin, Tricia Helfer, Jennifer Morrison, Lisa Edelstein, Jeri Ryan (but only on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays), Nana Visitor, Terry Farrell, Kate Mulgrew, Gates McFadden, Marina Sirtis, and the list goes on, and dude, how can I forget Jill Hennessy and Catherine Bell? And...
*goes on to list about a hundred more over the course of 5 hours*
....Torri Higginson, and did I mention Amanda Tapping?
And then he went down with his ship. Sorry, I'm watching the Star Trek reboot. I think I only suggested it to my parents because JMo is in it for 10 minutes at the beginning.
You know, I miss House, but I don't miss *House*. I miss the first two seasons. You know, when I cared, and when it hadn't jumped the shark so hard that the shark came home and lived with House. Which would have been more entertaining, because I like sharks. I also like Wilson. He could name the shark Wilson, because why the hell not.
Word Count: 964
Word Count to Date: 37947
However, I think my sister and her husband need to communicate, make decisions, and hire a governor to pass on these decisions to me, because *damn* if this isn't irritating as all hell. I mean, through a series of fortunate events, I had a way back home, but I did give my sister an earful. A professional one. Because this *is* a job. And also, it was more of a Skypeful.
You know, I went to see RED in the theatre, and I loved it. It came out around the time Jackass 3D came out, and for *some* reason, the latter did better than the former. I will never understand that. You have this *awesome* comic book-based
*draws hearts and flowers around Frank Moses and Sarah*
*wonders why she never liked Bruce Willis before, decides it's because he had to age like a fine
Also, unrelated, Helen Mirren? You are just awwwwesome.
Then there was that time I watched Mamma Mia and decided I quite loved Meryl Streep. Perhaps it's because I love people who can sing (seriously, Colin Firth? CALL ME). But also, I made a pact with myself in Grade 12, upon seeing her in Taming of the Shrew, that she was a horrible actress and overrated and I would never like her. What can I say? I take it all back. Perhaps it's also because she's a great advocate of loving your own body and never wishing you had someone else's, because you never will. Also, she took her husband's last name, which I don't usually advocate, though for fuck's sake, I'll be doing so, so I'm kind of a hypocrite, except then I found out what jerks my dad's adopted dad's family were, and so I'll be glad to not carry on Drozdiak. But I like when actresses don't just keep their stage name/maiden name in real life, because it kind of makes them actual people. Also, that one sentence back there was kind of an explosive run-on sentence. For which I apologize. Also? She has SIX kids. I have a great amount of respect for anyone who can look that great after 6 kids. I promise here and now that I will not make any remarks about vaginas and clown cars, or her sixth child just cartwheeling out. Well, I mean, except for the one I just made. I LOVE YOU MERYL.
I totally watched The San Lorenzo Job (Leverage), and everything I like about this show was there. There was the stealing a country, Goran Visjnic as an evil guy (Luka, what *happened* to you), there was everybody doing their stuff, there was Nate and Sophie waking up in bed together...
Ruy and I discussing the episode afterward, the first and third lines are obviously mine:
"Well, obviously, it was too hot, and they were tired, and had to take off their clothes and share a bed."
"Obviously."
"Wait a minute, why am I making excuses for them? WOOOO, NATE/SOPHIE!"
"I did wonder."
Which brings me to another point about the word girlcrushes. Is that a hetero thing? Where you don't technically have a crush on someone, but you highly respect their work, and maybe like to catch them on TV? I mean, the entire world can't be bisexual, can it? ...CAN IT? If I have a crush on a lady, it's just a crush, right? I mean, there's the whole thing with heterosexual man crushes (by men, for men), which makes mine, what, homosexual woman crushes? I rest my case. So, wanna hear about my homosexual woman crushes? Of course you do. I'll just list names, and you tell me when to stop.
Amanda Tapping, Jorja Fox, Gina Bellman, Beth Riesgraf, the actress who plays Alison on Eureka whom I decided I like within 6 seconds of watching the show, Gina Torres, Kelli Williams, Monica Raymund,
*goes on to list about a hundred more over the course of 5 hours*
....Torri Higginson, and did I mention Amanda Tapping?
And then he went down with his ship. Sorry, I'm watching the Star Trek reboot. I think I only suggested it to my parents because JMo is in it for 10 minutes at the beginning.
You know, I miss House, but I don't miss *House*. I miss the first two seasons. You know, when I cared, and when it hadn't jumped the shark so hard that the shark came home and lived with House. Which would have been more entertaining, because I like sharks. I also like Wilson. He could name the shark Wilson, because why the hell not.
Word Count: 964
Word Count to Date: 37947
This song is seriously why computers get thrown out of windows (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mB1PuesGGBc&feature=player_profilepage). Which doesn't explain why I'm listening to it. Or why I'm listening to the versions in other languages. I'm having serious Hamsterdance flashbacks here. Also, I would like to blame the French for this, but I'm entirely too lazy to look up who is to blame for this.
Right, second day's attempt to write 750 words. I need to have something productive to do while I'm dogsitting, so this clearly has to go somewhere.
Ruy and I were discussing what we'd tell someone from 1997, if they called for, say their platform shoes back (it originated with the xkcd comic about 2007 calling for their wolf shirt back, and the person wearing said shirt going "Did you tell them about Japan? Haiti?" and so on). Then we had a lot of trouble coming up with anything that happened that wasn't within the last 5 years. I mean, other than 9/11. "Um, you don't need to worry about Y2K, it all turns out alright"? "Don't go to Iraq, it was all a big mistake"? Then Ruy couldn't remember when the first Gulf War was (1991). I'm still having a moment of, "Wait a minute, there was a second one?"
Someone who could only have been the 10th Doctor was wandering around at the Broadway Canada Line station, looking lost. This man looked seriously out of his own dimension. Very dapper and such, just, you know, a little bit out of his own time. He probably lost his TARDIS.
I'm tempted to look at writing prompts to see if I can make this post go anywhere.
I've just hit March 13th in Google Reader, so, as you can see, I am *totally* up to speed on my news. This reminds me a little of when Michael Jackson died, and I knew about it pretty much as it was happening because I was refreshing BBC and CNN like a crazy woman, but then, 5 weeks later, had to go through my RSS feeds to find that he'd died. Again. Well, not again again, but the first time.
Not only is Bryan Adams 51 (Whaaaa?), but he's having a child with his personal assistant. That seems a little, oh, what is the word. Not shady, not sketchy, not weird... Promiscuous? No, not that either. Well, I can't think of the word, but I will probably just put quotation marks around "personal" and "assistant." That will make me feel better. It's like... I don't know, impregnating your secretary? WHAT DOES ONE CALL THAT?
I have this sudden urge to play The Sims, and I can't. Not even LEGALLY. For ACTUAL MONEY. I'm practically *giving* it away. *sigh*
Also, knee hurts. Shards of glass. Par for the course, but makes dog-walking more difficult. Frig on toast.
Did I miss a fortune cookie somewhere that says "This is a good year to have body parts fall off. Also, start a new business."?
I'm going with yes. Speaking of which, I should start a business. On Etsy. Selling scarves. Because I can, and what else can I do while laid up with a stupid fucking leg.
CHARLIE SHEEN, STOP EXISTING! By which I don't mean go die of an overdose or an underdose or whatever it is you're not having/are having; I just mean, go pop out of existence until you can be less of a douchebag. I'm nice, I'll even let you come back!
I really need to stop following the idea of "Oh good, I got to 10000 items from 20000 in Google Reader, it's time to go trawling for more blogs to read." I mean, 1000, maybe, but I think 10000 is a little presumptuous about my ability to actually get through these. And how many blogs do I read for the pictures?
And we found Atlantis in Spain? I can certainly say that that wasn't where I was looking for it. I was still hoping that Pegasus was going to drag it out at some point, and glance at it meaningfully. Because cats can totally do that.
Oh man, am I ever tired of hearing about Lindsay Lohan. I JUST DON'T CARE. I don't care if she stole jewellery, I don't care if she *didn't* steal it, I don't care if she's sleeping with Samantha Ronson again, I don't care about her attention-seeking mother, I don't care if she's still an actress, I don't care if she cares about her career. Of all the things that I could possibly want to hear about for years on end, it isn't Lindsay Lohan. Stop giving her the attention she wants (or doesn't want) and let her just crawl into a hole and do... whatever she's going to do with her life. I sure as hell wouldn't hire her for a movie, and I'm just *that much* more interested in Charlie Sheen.
AND YAY, I GET TO GO HOME EARLY! YAAAAYS.
Wait, Mel Gibson has grandchildren? What the what?
Word Count: 834
Word Count to Date: 36983
Right, second day's attempt to write 750 words. I need to have something productive to do while I'm dogsitting, so this clearly has to go somewhere.
Ruy and I were discussing what we'd tell someone from 1997, if they called for, say their platform shoes back (it originated with the xkcd comic about 2007 calling for their wolf shirt back, and the person wearing said shirt going "Did you tell them about Japan? Haiti?" and so on). Then we had a lot of trouble coming up with anything that happened that wasn't within the last 5 years. I mean, other than 9/11. "Um, you don't need to worry about Y2K, it all turns out alright"? "Don't go to Iraq, it was all a big mistake"? Then Ruy couldn't remember when the first Gulf War was (1991). I'm still having a moment of, "Wait a minute, there was a second one?"
Someone who could only have been the 10th Doctor was wandering around at the Broadway Canada Line station, looking lost. This man looked seriously out of his own dimension. Very dapper and such, just, you know, a little bit out of his own time. He probably lost his TARDIS.
I'm tempted to look at writing prompts to see if I can make this post go anywhere.
I've just hit March 13th in Google Reader, so, as you can see, I am *totally* up to speed on my news. This reminds me a little of when Michael Jackson died, and I knew about it pretty much as it was happening because I was refreshing BBC and CNN like a crazy woman, but then, 5 weeks later, had to go through my RSS feeds to find that he'd died. Again. Well, not again again, but the first time.
Not only is Bryan Adams 51 (Whaaaa?), but he's having a child with his personal assistant. That seems a little, oh, what is the word. Not shady, not sketchy, not weird... Promiscuous? No, not that either. Well, I can't think of the word, but I will probably just put quotation marks around "personal" and "assistant." That will make me feel better. It's like... I don't know, impregnating your secretary? WHAT DOES ONE CALL THAT?
I have this sudden urge to play The Sims, and I can't. Not even LEGALLY. For ACTUAL MONEY. I'm practically *giving* it away. *sigh*
Also, knee hurts. Shards of glass. Par for the course, but makes dog-walking more difficult. Frig on toast.
Did I miss a fortune cookie somewhere that says "This is a good year to have body parts fall off. Also, start a new business."?
I'm going with yes. Speaking of which, I should start a business. On Etsy. Selling scarves. Because I can, and what else can I do while laid up with a stupid fucking leg.
CHARLIE SHEEN, STOP EXISTING! By which I don't mean go die of an overdose or an underdose or whatever it is you're not having/are having; I just mean, go pop out of existence until you can be less of a douchebag. I'm nice, I'll even let you come back!
I really need to stop following the idea of "Oh good, I got to 10000 items from 20000 in Google Reader, it's time to go trawling for more blogs to read." I mean, 1000, maybe, but I think 10000 is a little presumptuous about my ability to actually get through these. And how many blogs do I read for the pictures?
And we found Atlantis in Spain? I can certainly say that that wasn't where I was looking for it. I was still hoping that Pegasus was going to drag it out at some point, and glance at it meaningfully. Because cats can totally do that.
Oh man, am I ever tired of hearing about Lindsay Lohan. I JUST DON'T CARE. I don't care if she stole jewellery, I don't care if she *didn't* steal it, I don't care if she's sleeping with Samantha Ronson again, I don't care about her attention-seeking mother, I don't care if she's still an actress, I don't care if she cares about her career. Of all the things that I could possibly want to hear about for years on end, it isn't Lindsay Lohan. Stop giving her the attention she wants (or doesn't want) and let her just crawl into a hole and do... whatever she's going to do with her life. I sure as hell wouldn't hire her for a movie, and I'm just *that much* more interested in Charlie Sheen.
AND YAY, I GET TO GO HOME EARLY! YAAAAYS.
Wait, Mel Gibson has grandchildren? What the what?
Word Count: 834
Word Count to Date: 36983
Travel Diary: Entry 2 - Written on Day 82
Mar. 23rd, 2011 08:29 amhttp://bicyclingcat.blogspot.com/2011/03/17-february-2011-2307-pst.html
Word Count: 840
Word Count to Date: 36149
Word Count: 840
Word Count to Date: 36149
Leverage fic; totally couldn't finish it; rated g; 527 words; untitled
If there was one thing Sophie Devereaux prided herself on, it was her ability to play any role accurately, and with a certain amount of flair. Everything she had ever needed to steal, whether honestly or dishonestly, hinged on that ability. So the fact that she was in tears, picking out tiny baby clothes, shocked her. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be a mother. She'd *been* a mother, if only for 25 minutes, that one time they were doing the job with the faulty life insurance. But that was grifting. This was *life*
Parker, who had chosen to accompany her, was slightly less shocked, but only because very little phased her. She pulled Sophie towards her for a hug, knowing it was the right thing to do in this situation, or so she guessed, based on her observations of her chosen family. Hardison hugged her when she cried. Nate hugged her when she cried. Hell, almost everyone hugged her when she cried. It was a freak occurrence, usually only happening when a job went tits-up or she was trapped somewhere (physically or emotionally). So, if other people hugged *her* when she cried, it was likely the right thing to do for Sophie. It was hard to maneuver the other lady into a proper hug, given the expansive baby bump, but Parker did her best. Sophie's sobs turned into occasional sniffles, and soon she was reaching a hand up to wipe away the tears.
"Sorry," she said, once the tears had abated completely.
"It's alright," Parker replied. "I don't think the giraffes look quite right, either."
A soft chuckle was the reply, before Sophie began to speak in earnest about what was bothering her. "I don't think I can do this, Parker. How can I be someone's *mother*?"
"Teach them everything you know," Parker said, thinking of Archie. "Let them know you love them unconditionally," she continued, thinking of Nate, Hardison, Eliot, and even Sophie herself (who had shown her more love than both of her odd parents). "Even if they accidentally blow up the house."
Sophie smiled tearfully, while Parker continued to list items off on her fingers. "Bad guys make the best good guys, learn the family business young, always be stealthy, sometimes you'll find laser tripwires in ventilation shafts, don't take dietary advice from Hardison, it's never too early to learn gymnastics..."
Sophie knew that this child would grow up in a loving environment, with two parents who loved each other, and an extended family who would likely teach them all the tricks of the trade, for better or for worse. Even with all the love, and all the good she wished for her child, she couldn't help but worry that her child would grow up to be a wanted criminal. Really, Sophie, *now* is the time to be thinking that perhaps your line of work might be a little morally ambiguous, she thought to herself. Well-paying, but morally ambiguous.
"...toast generally lands butter-side down, the best ice cream sundae is one you do backflips for..."
Sophie rubbed her belly, her and Nate's daughter wriggling in the safety of her womb.
Word Count: 527
Word Count to Date: 35309
If there was one thing Sophie Devereaux prided herself on, it was her ability to play any role accurately, and with a certain amount of flair. Everything she had ever needed to steal, whether honestly or dishonestly, hinged on that ability. So the fact that she was in tears, picking out tiny baby clothes, shocked her. She couldn't do this. She couldn't be a mother. She'd *been* a mother, if only for 25 minutes, that one time they were doing the job with the faulty life insurance. But that was grifting. This was *life*
Parker, who had chosen to accompany her, was slightly less shocked, but only because very little phased her. She pulled Sophie towards her for a hug, knowing it was the right thing to do in this situation, or so she guessed, based on her observations of her chosen family. Hardison hugged her when she cried. Nate hugged her when she cried. Hell, almost everyone hugged her when she cried. It was a freak occurrence, usually only happening when a job went tits-up or she was trapped somewhere (physically or emotionally). So, if other people hugged *her* when she cried, it was likely the right thing to do for Sophie. It was hard to maneuver the other lady into a proper hug, given the expansive baby bump, but Parker did her best. Sophie's sobs turned into occasional sniffles, and soon she was reaching a hand up to wipe away the tears.
"Sorry," she said, once the tears had abated completely.
"It's alright," Parker replied. "I don't think the giraffes look quite right, either."
A soft chuckle was the reply, before Sophie began to speak in earnest about what was bothering her. "I don't think I can do this, Parker. How can I be someone's *mother*?"
"Teach them everything you know," Parker said, thinking of Archie. "Let them know you love them unconditionally," she continued, thinking of Nate, Hardison, Eliot, and even Sophie herself (who had shown her more love than both of her odd parents). "Even if they accidentally blow up the house."
Sophie smiled tearfully, while Parker continued to list items off on her fingers. "Bad guys make the best good guys, learn the family business young, always be stealthy, sometimes you'll find laser tripwires in ventilation shafts, don't take dietary advice from Hardison, it's never too early to learn gymnastics..."
Sophie knew that this child would grow up in a loving environment, with two parents who loved each other, and an extended family who would likely teach them all the tricks of the trade, for better or for worse. Even with all the love, and all the good she wished for her child, she couldn't help but worry that her child would grow up to be a wanted criminal. Really, Sophie, *now* is the time to be thinking that perhaps your line of work might be a little morally ambiguous, she thought to herself. Well-paying, but morally ambiguous.
"...toast generally lands butter-side down, the best ice cream sundae is one you do backflips for..."
Sophie rubbed her belly, her and Nate's daughter wriggling in the safety of her womb.
Word Count: 527
Word Count to Date: 35309
Travel Diary: Entry 1
Mar. 22nd, 2011 02:23 pmhttp://bicyclingcat.blogspot.com/2011/03/17-february-2011-sometime-after-2100.html
Word Count: 558
Word Count to Date: 34782
Word Count: 558
Word Count to Date: 34782
Pretty sure the world is currently a shambles. I mean, Tunisia, Bahrain, Egypt, Libya...
Then the Christchurch and Japan earthquakes.
The Earth is angry. Both the planet itself, and the people on it. And, I mean, I'm all for fighting for human rights and against oppression, but I think it's... interesting, that 4 countries decided to do it pretty much at once. I thought it was interesting when Egypt started and I was leaving for Europe. Then Bahrain went tits up while I was in Dublin. Then Libya sort of went crazy.
Oh, also, I'm watching BBC World News. Kind of the closest I can get to actual BBC News. That's one reason I miss Europe, especially the UK. Not, like, the sights we saw or anything. Just the TV news.
Britain's Tallest Tower != Britain's Tallest Lover. Either way, I vote John Druitt. Please.
Things are getting more dangerous in Japan, with the nuclear plant. I think, at this point, they need to try something slightly colder and less inaccurate than water. I think we've established that water is not working. Something colder might wreck the reactor, yes, but is that REALLY our biggest concern right now? I would think human health would be more important. Also, the robots. Someone has to save the robots.
Also, I think we've established that Vancouver is more or less screwed when our earthquake comes. I mean, we won't get the tsunami, but only because Vancouver Island is in the way. It's all going to fall over. Good Lord.
And I see Libya is still having unfortunateness. I think, also, unfortunateness is an understatement. Also, not a word.
Or, as I just said to Ruy, upon looking up at BBC World News, "Hey, did you know Libya is having an uprising?" Also, France has signalled that action could be imminent. What kind of action, I wonder. Universal dance party? I vote universal dance party. World would be a...what the hell is a First Sea Lord? WIKIPEDIA TIME!
Ah. Head of the Royal Navy. No Rear Admirals here. ...I wish Canada had a Sea Lord. We'd be so much cooler.
This entry has taken an embarrassingly long time to create. I keep hoping to hit 750 words, to hit my 750words.com goal, but since I seem to be typing at the astonishingly quick rate of 77 words per day, it's taking awhile. Curses.
Dear Oprah:
I don't even think we get your channel in Canada. Stop advertising on my TV. And even if we did, you'd probably show things like Dr. Phil, and Dr. Phil is about as real a psychologist as I am an African elephant.
No love,
Rin.
Two things:
a) I am absolutely *petrified* of posting on my own LJ. Things usually tend to end badly when I do. And yet, at some point, I really should. So people know I'm alive and such. I just can't help that there are people in and around my LJ that drive me absolutely stark-raving bonkers. Also, re-reading my posts from the past 6 or so months makes it look like I'm a very angry starfish. Only *half* of that is true. I'm actually very happy. Just, you know, paranoid of Dutch-Belgian backstabbers, and whoever the hell else she has recruited. *cowers* See, even re-reading that paragraph makes me question my own sanity.
b) The frigging hell is going on inside the walls of my sister's apartment? It sounds like old cash registers. But, like, in the walls.
c) Adele doesn't actually drown out the sounds inside the walls. I think we have a minor angry zombie infestation. And by "we," I mean my sister.
Ooo, we're actually getting to somewhere in the vicinity of 750 words. Score! And once I finish this, I can start typing up my paper journal from Europe. FUN.
Uh, let's see. Ruy and I have almost started playing our first Dungeons and Dragons campaign. It would possibly be more fun with actual other people, but, you know, we're either too nerdy or not nerdy enough.
I hear there was an uprising in Libya.
Okay, it's getting old. But seriously, did you know we're at war? Did anyone consult me on this? Is Canada actually *involved*? Or is this like a United States, therefore North America sort of thing? Anybody? Anybody? Stephen Harper, you poor example of a prime minister, you, where are you on this?
Oh, *God*, now the Ivory Coast is having a crisis. For serious, even.
Word Count: 750
Word Count to Date: 34224
Then the Christchurch and Japan earthquakes.
The Earth is angry. Both the planet itself, and the people on it. And, I mean, I'm all for fighting for human rights and against oppression, but I think it's... interesting, that 4 countries decided to do it pretty much at once. I thought it was interesting when Egypt started and I was leaving for Europe. Then Bahrain went tits up while I was in Dublin. Then Libya sort of went crazy.
Oh, also, I'm watching BBC World News. Kind of the closest I can get to actual BBC News. That's one reason I miss Europe, especially the UK. Not, like, the sights we saw or anything. Just the TV news.
Britain's Tallest Tower != Britain's Tallest Lover. Either way, I vote John Druitt. Please.
Things are getting more dangerous in Japan, with the nuclear plant. I think, at this point, they need to try something slightly colder and less inaccurate than water. I think we've established that water is not working. Something colder might wreck the reactor, yes, but is that REALLY our biggest concern right now? I would think human health would be more important. Also, the robots. Someone has to save the robots.
Also, I think we've established that Vancouver is more or less screwed when our earthquake comes. I mean, we won't get the tsunami, but only because Vancouver Island is in the way. It's all going to fall over. Good Lord.
And I see Libya is still having unfortunateness. I think, also, unfortunateness is an understatement. Also, not a word.
Or, as I just said to Ruy, upon looking up at BBC World News, "Hey, did you know Libya is having an uprising?" Also, France has signalled that action could be imminent. What kind of action, I wonder. Universal dance party? I vote universal dance party. World would be a...what the hell is a First Sea Lord? WIKIPEDIA TIME!
Ah. Head of the Royal Navy. No Rear Admirals here. ...I wish Canada had a Sea Lord. We'd be so much cooler.
This entry has taken an embarrassingly long time to create. I keep hoping to hit 750 words, to hit my 750words.com goal, but since I seem to be typing at the astonishingly quick rate of 77 words per day, it's taking awhile. Curses.
Dear Oprah:
I don't even think we get your channel in Canada. Stop advertising on my TV. And even if we did, you'd probably show things like Dr. Phil, and Dr. Phil is about as real a psychologist as I am an African elephant.
No love,
Rin.
Two things:
a) I am absolutely *petrified* of posting on my own LJ. Things usually tend to end badly when I do. And yet, at some point, I really should. So people know I'm alive and such. I just can't help that there are people in and around my LJ that drive me absolutely stark-raving bonkers. Also, re-reading my posts from the past 6 or so months makes it look like I'm a very angry starfish. Only *half* of that is true. I'm actually very happy. Just, you know, paranoid of Dutch-Belgian backstabbers, and whoever the hell else she has recruited. *cowers* See, even re-reading that paragraph makes me question my own sanity.
b) The frigging hell is going on inside the walls of my sister's apartment? It sounds like old cash registers. But, like, in the walls.
c) Adele doesn't actually drown out the sounds inside the walls. I think we have a minor angry zombie infestation. And by "we," I mean my sister.
Ooo, we're actually getting to somewhere in the vicinity of 750 words. Score! And once I finish this, I can start typing up my paper journal from Europe. FUN.
Uh, let's see. Ruy and I have almost started playing our first Dungeons and Dragons campaign. It would possibly be more fun with actual other people, but, you know, we're either too nerdy or not nerdy enough.
I hear there was an uprising in Libya.
Okay, it's getting old. But seriously, did you know we're at war? Did anyone consult me on this? Is Canada actually *involved*? Or is this like a United States, therefore North America sort of thing? Anybody? Anybody? Stephen Harper, you poor example of a prime minister, you, where are you on this?
Oh, *God*, now the Ivory Coast is having a crisis. For serious, even.
Word Count: 750
Word Count to Date: 34224
In the past, let's say six hours, I have cleaned out two boxes of clothes, one box of stuffed animals and wool (helpfully vacuum-sealed), most of the contents of a drawer containing what used to be on top of my dresser, my underwear drawer, the entirety of the clothes in my closet, and one shelf in my closet that I don't terribly want to talk about. Let's just say that disintegrating plastic bags were involved, and I nearly went crazy. The important thing is, I now have a place to put my desk and I can set up my computer and play Warcraft and The Sims, which I haven't done since early January, and forever, respectively.
I have a bajillion bags to go to thrift, I've downsized a whole bunch, and I'm getting rid of things I never thought I'd be able to. I would have done more, but I think I've approximately done in my back. I might go through another box tomorrow (since my computer monitor is in there), and do a tonne of laundry, but I think I've done fairly well, considering.
I am greatly looking forward to that decontamination shower I will be taking when my dad is finished washing the dishes. If my head doesn't loll right of my body while I'm waiting.
*time passes*
I did indeed have that shower, and it was every bit as wonderful as I was hoping. I then woke up this morning after only 6.5 hours, despite the fact that I should have been exhausted. Got right to work on my editing job, too, for as long as it took for Peggles to come find me and curl up on my chest. I was off to sleep on the couch for another 4 hours. I woke up and my parents were already starting to clean up for what we will "affectionately" term Rearrangement Sunday.
*more time passes*
What about aeroplanes? What about aliens? What about ships that drank the sea?
What about my broken car, what about soldier battle scars?
*stops singing*
*coughs*
So, today the repair guy comes to fix the washing machine and dryer, both of which we managed to break in 15 minutes yesterday. I've called Visa to let them know I'll be in Europe, so that they don't assume my credit card is stolen. It's... Valentines Day, I guess. Ruy and I are celebrating when I get to Europe. As per usual, though, this makes like 4 Valentines Days with Ruy that have either sucked or been non-existent. I don't get the big deal about this day. Really, single people, if us people with other people can't pull it together for the 14th of February, I'm pretty sure this day really isn't so important - for singles or non alike. It's a day in February. My first Valentines with a significant other, we both argued *and* my dad developed a hematoma at his surgical site, 4 days after nearly dying on us. I think the 14th is something I can generally do without. Fuck Valentines Day, essentially, is what I'm saying.
Pegasus is hopping around like a crazed lunatic, chasing invisible bugs. Again.
I've taken up Coronation Street. I say that like it's a hobby. Which it kind of is. At one point, I was looking at what was going on and was like, "This show is such a SOAP OPERA." Heh. Well, duh, of course it is. Because it is. That said, my grandma watched Corrie for years, and with everything that's happening, it is genuinely nice to feel close to her by taking up the Corrie mantle. I wish I could get some of the older episodes. Mostly I'm just catching up to a storyline that was on on Friday night (on the CBC, my one channel that shows it here). I can totally see where we're going now.
1. I'm going to nap, because it's too early to go to bed.
2. That really was my reasoning for having a nap at 15:45 in the afternoon.
3. No, I don't know why I started a numbered list.
Also, I've done my back in. Something you really want when you are flying for 13 hours in a couple of days. I... don't like it. Obviously.
I wish it was time for dinner. If I can't go to bed yet (seriously, what's with me and reasonable bedtimes all of a sudden?), then I definitely want dinner. Yaaaaay, pureed rice. Yes. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. If my stomach digests it, we don't mock it.
Word Count: 762
Word Count to Date: 33474
I have a bajillion bags to go to thrift, I've downsized a whole bunch, and I'm getting rid of things I never thought I'd be able to. I would have done more, but I think I've approximately done in my back. I might go through another box tomorrow (since my computer monitor is in there), and do a tonne of laundry, but I think I've done fairly well, considering.
I am greatly looking forward to that decontamination shower I will be taking when my dad is finished washing the dishes. If my head doesn't loll right of my body while I'm waiting.
*time passes*
I did indeed have that shower, and it was every bit as wonderful as I was hoping. I then woke up this morning after only 6.5 hours, despite the fact that I should have been exhausted. Got right to work on my editing job, too, for as long as it took for Peggles to come find me and curl up on my chest. I was off to sleep on the couch for another 4 hours. I woke up and my parents were already starting to clean up for what we will "affectionately" term Rearrangement Sunday.
*more time passes*
What about aeroplanes? What about aliens? What about ships that drank the sea?
What about my broken car, what about soldier battle scars?
*stops singing*
*coughs*
So, today the repair guy comes to fix the washing machine and dryer, both of which we managed to break in 15 minutes yesterday. I've called Visa to let them know I'll be in Europe, so that they don't assume my credit card is stolen. It's... Valentines Day, I guess. Ruy and I are celebrating when I get to Europe. As per usual, though, this makes like 4 Valentines Days with Ruy that have either sucked or been non-existent. I don't get the big deal about this day. Really, single people, if us people with other people can't pull it together for the 14th of February, I'm pretty sure this day really isn't so important - for singles or non alike. It's a day in February. My first Valentines with a significant other, we both argued *and* my dad developed a hematoma at his surgical site, 4 days after nearly dying on us. I think the 14th is something I can generally do without. Fuck Valentines Day, essentially, is what I'm saying.
Pegasus is hopping around like a crazed lunatic, chasing invisible bugs. Again.
I've taken up Coronation Street. I say that like it's a hobby. Which it kind of is. At one point, I was looking at what was going on and was like, "This show is such a SOAP OPERA." Heh. Well, duh, of course it is. Because it is. That said, my grandma watched Corrie for years, and with everything that's happening, it is genuinely nice to feel close to her by taking up the Corrie mantle. I wish I could get some of the older episodes. Mostly I'm just catching up to a storyline that was on on Friday night (on the CBC, my one channel that shows it here). I can totally see where we're going now.
1. I'm going to nap, because it's too early to go to bed.
2. That really was my reasoning for having a nap at 15:45 in the afternoon.
3. No, I don't know why I started a numbered list.
Also, I've done my back in. Something you really want when you are flying for 13 hours in a couple of days. I... don't like it. Obviously.
I wish it was time for dinner. If I can't go to bed yet (seriously, what's with me and reasonable bedtimes all of a sudden?), then I definitely want dinner. Yaaaaay, pureed rice. Yes. Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. If my stomach digests it, we don't mock it.
Word Count: 762
Word Count to Date: 33474
List-Making: Day 43 - Ireland?
Feb. 12th, 2011 03:48 pmToday, today (she says, meaning tomorrow when she wakes up) is going to be a list-making day. Lists are fun. Remember what happened that time I made that list at/around Tesla? It was good, wasn't it? Of course it was. Also, I talked about how I thought I was getting a cold at the time, and then ENDED UP GETTING ONE. Stupid... poetic justice.
1. Poetic justice should involve the reading of a verdict in iambic pentameter, or possibly rhyming couplets.
2. Ruy has left the country. I assume. Not knowing the flight path the plane is taking, I'm only pretty sure he's out of the country. Just a second, I'll check. Nope. Definitely still in the country. Apparently, we're taking the *odd* way to London. I shall keep this in mind for next Thursday.
3. I haven't even gone to bed yet. Go to bed, self. The whole point of this list was to make the list tomorrow. Otherwise, you'll end up with endless items about nose drippage and cat fightage.
4. My nose is dripping and the cats are fighting.
5. Making lists about what to pack for travel to other countries should always take place just before going to bed, 6 days before you leave. No way you'll forget anything while you're half-asleep.
6. They've just finished flying over Manitoba, so, yes, technically still in the country. Also, apparently they took off 49 minutes late. I wonder whether we'll also take off late. Like, if that's a thing they do every night, or just some nights.
7. They have arrived. Yes, between items 6 and 7, they arrived. Of course, the time spanning between 6 and 7 was nearly twelve hours, so it's not surprising. Yaaaayyy, sleep!
8. We spray the cats with water when they need discipline (mostly when the two are fighting, or when someone is scaling something they shouldn't be). Pegasus likes water too much to be entirely deterred, so mostly she chases the spray of water. That's my Peggles.
9. I like how everyone went to Kitty Kindergarten and learned to share litter boxes and food and water and everything important, but nobody seems to have learned that Tessa doesn't like to be jumped on and ridden like a horse, or that Pegasus *does* sometimes behave herself and doesn't need to be chased after at the speed of light and hissed at. No, really.
10. I just spent a half-hour untangling the cat toys. Pegasus "helped" by pouncing at them every minute and a half in case they were done. They weren't. Thanks anyway, Peggles, dear.
11. I should never have laid down on the floor and let Peggles use my shoulder as a springboard back when we first brought her home. This thing I allowed her to do *once*, has turned into a "Hey look, there's somewhere I need to jump at, and there's Mommy's shoulder, *POUNCE*"
12. I often wonder what Pegasus meows about when she wakes up. Maybe she's still communicating with the vestiges of a dream? It's either that, or she's calling out for her mommy, because she's realized she's sleeping alone. She never meows when she wakes up on me, or next to Tessa, only when she's alone. She's generally comforted when I go over to wherever she's woken up, and pet her. Aww. Pets *do* take on their owners' characteristics! I have attachment anxiety regarding my parents disappearing, and so does Pegasus! (This minor in Psychology was totes not for nothing, as you can see.)
13. The sheer joy Peggles is getting out of playing with that cheese wrapper is amazing. *sniff* My littlest hunter.
14. Peppermiiiiiiint. I got a peppermint green tea latte from Starbucks and just got to the bottom of it. NOTHING LIKE A SHOT OF PEPPERMINT TO WAKE YOU UP IN THE MORNING! Except it's 13:30, and I was already quite awake.
15. I just spoke to Ruy. IN IRELAND. He was deliriously tired, so I let him go off to sleep. So nice to speak with him after not hearing from him for so long (you know, not even 24 hours have passed since he left - well, except, 24 hours have passed by Greenwich Mean Time standards, because he left last night (our time), and it will be tomorrow there in 20 minutes). Still, it was lovely to know he made it in okay, although I'm now scared to death of flying and then finding my way across 4 terminals at Heathrow.
Word Count: 751
Word Count to Date: 32712
1. Poetic justice should involve the reading of a verdict in iambic pentameter, or possibly rhyming couplets.
2. Ruy has left the country. I assume. Not knowing the flight path the plane is taking, I'm only pretty sure he's out of the country. Just a second, I'll check. Nope. Definitely still in the country. Apparently, we're taking the *odd* way to London. I shall keep this in mind for next Thursday.
3. I haven't even gone to bed yet. Go to bed, self. The whole point of this list was to make the list tomorrow. Otherwise, you'll end up with endless items about nose drippage and cat fightage.
4. My nose is dripping and the cats are fighting.
5. Making lists about what to pack for travel to other countries should always take place just before going to bed, 6 days before you leave. No way you'll forget anything while you're half-asleep.
6. They've just finished flying over Manitoba, so, yes, technically still in the country. Also, apparently they took off 49 minutes late. I wonder whether we'll also take off late. Like, if that's a thing they do every night, or just some nights.
7. They have arrived. Yes, between items 6 and 7, they arrived. Of course, the time spanning between 6 and 7 was nearly twelve hours, so it's not surprising. Yaaaayyy, sleep!
8. We spray the cats with water when they need discipline (mostly when the two are fighting, or when someone is scaling something they shouldn't be). Pegasus likes water too much to be entirely deterred, so mostly she chases the spray of water. That's my Peggles.
9. I like how everyone went to Kitty Kindergarten and learned to share litter boxes and food and water and everything important, but nobody seems to have learned that Tessa doesn't like to be jumped on and ridden like a horse, or that Pegasus *does* sometimes behave herself and doesn't need to be chased after at the speed of light and hissed at. No, really.
10. I just spent a half-hour untangling the cat toys. Pegasus "helped" by pouncing at them every minute and a half in case they were done. They weren't. Thanks anyway, Peggles, dear.
11. I should never have laid down on the floor and let Peggles use my shoulder as a springboard back when we first brought her home. This thing I allowed her to do *once*, has turned into a "Hey look, there's somewhere I need to jump at, and there's Mommy's shoulder, *POUNCE*"
12. I often wonder what Pegasus meows about when she wakes up. Maybe she's still communicating with the vestiges of a dream? It's either that, or she's calling out for her mommy, because she's realized she's sleeping alone. She never meows when she wakes up on me, or next to Tessa, only when she's alone. She's generally comforted when I go over to wherever she's woken up, and pet her. Aww. Pets *do* take on their owners' characteristics! I have attachment anxiety regarding my parents disappearing, and so does Pegasus! (This minor in Psychology was totes not for nothing, as you can see.)
13. The sheer joy Peggles is getting out of playing with that cheese wrapper is amazing. *sniff* My littlest hunter.
14. Peppermiiiiiiint. I got a peppermint green tea latte from Starbucks and just got to the bottom of it. NOTHING LIKE A SHOT OF PEPPERMINT TO WAKE YOU UP IN THE MORNING! Except it's 13:30, and I was already quite awake.
15. I just spoke to Ruy. IN IRELAND. He was deliriously tired, so I let him go off to sleep. So nice to speak with him after not hearing from him for so long (you know, not even 24 hours have passed since he left - well, except, 24 hours have passed by Greenwich Mean Time standards, because he left last night (our time), and it will be tomorrow there in 20 minutes). Still, it was lovely to know he made it in okay, although I'm now scared to death of flying and then finding my way across 4 terminals at Heathrow.
Word Count: 751
Word Count to Date: 32712
